


Matters of the Hart

by CandyassGoth



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Roxy, Bisexual Eggsy, Blow Jobs, But still snarky Eggsy, Dead Lee Unwin, Dean is a bastard, Eggsy has issues, Eggsy is signed up as a boybride, Eggsy-centric, Eventual Smut, First Time, Former prostitute Eggsy, Frottage, Gentleman Harry Hart, Gonna try my hand at Slow-ish burn, Harry Hart is a Little Shit, Hurt Eggsy, Kingsman is a mail-order-bride Agency, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Praise Kink, Roxy Is a Good Bro, Secrets, Slow Burn, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 112,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5954500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyassGoth/pseuds/CandyassGoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had Eggsy sign up at the Kingsman Agency, England’s discreet and (somewhat) secret gay mail-order-bride service. </p><p>After a year of silence from them to which Eggsy assumed was due to his questionable records (petty criminals didn't make the best wives, did they?), he thought that he would never get a call announcing an interested suitor, and he wasn't hoping for one either.</p><p>But he'd never gotten what he wanted, and just when he thought things couldn't get worse, they do. Or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the Frying Pan

**Author's Note:**

> First Kingsman fic, so do excuse all the errors and misuse of probably everything. Fucking love this film and of course fell in love with Colin and Taron and their brilliant portrayal of their characters and _of course_ the Hartwin ship (and Merhartwin, really, can’t really leave Merlin out…). I am now and shall forever be filthy Hartwin trash (and Merhartwin). And if you aren’t, you need to re-evaluate your life choices.
> 
> No I’m kidding, each to their own. More Hartwin for us Hartwinners oh god I just made that up as I typed this _**HARTWINNERS**_. Genius work self.
> 
> If any of my regular readers from the Marvel fandom are peeking in wondering WTF I apologize for being AWOL when I promised new fics. I watched this film and it was the end of me, I need to release all these emotions. I ship everything, but I legit haven’t felt this way since discovering Thorki, and that is saying something.
> 
> *Edit: PLEASE READ: The story has evolved from the little idea I had, and as such the mail-order bride theme is somewhat altered. It remains, but not in the pure sense of the kink. I cannot say more lest I spoil the story. The story should still be all right, just giving you the heads up in case of misleading anyone on the mail-order theme.
> 
> I apologise for errors

If Eggsy were honest, he’d seen this coming for a while now. It was just choosing the occasion. There was only so much he could take before throwing in the towel.

Okay he had been throwing it in for a while now, but not quite as hard as this.

“You jacked his fucking car keys, bruv?” Jamal asked, fuelling the tiring rebel in Eggsy. It was just too easy. Being _this_ was just too easy. It was easy pulling stunts and running for most of the day. It was easy thinning his lips over his teeth and turning up his nose when confronted. It was easy studying his nails as he sat back and watched the bomb-clock ticking away. It was easy because it had to be. It was better than everything else he was drifting through, better than what he’d been through, and certainly better than what was ahead.

The joy ride had been worth it, at the time. The adrenaline rush, the laughter of his mates, the bright lights and loud music carrying them like rock stars. And he could really drive a fucking car, not that he ever bragged, but he was proud. Same with his light fingers; a useful talent, just no opportunities to really use them—if you didn’t count back alley hand jobs.

As always he took the blame. Jamal and Ryan still had good families, prospects, dreams, and he wouldn’t let them miss it. Melding Rottie’s car with the police’s car was just for the heck of it; he knew he was screwed when he saw the damn fox. 

And yeah, he should’a done a lot of things. Instead he was getting himself arrested again, only this time it took his mum and Dean to get him out with an _extremely_ final warning. And the warning he didn’t care about—he loved adding to his ever growing résumé down shit creek—it was Dean’s warning that meant anything.

“ _You useless little shit_! I should just kill you! Useless fucking little whore is what you are! I should put you back to work on them streets!” Dean barked in his face, thick handa around his throat to hold him against the wall as he swung his palm, clouting him solidly. “Is that what ya want, huh? Can’t behave without a regular cock to choke on?!” 

His mum was hovering in the background, teary eyed and running her fingers through her tangled hair. Eggsy knew she hated when he got himself in trouble—in trouble with Dean that was. He was the only kind of trouble Eggsy couldn’t escape on the usual day. But he had grown numb a long time ago, and perhaps she deserved to watch him get beat... He knew she loved him, Eggsy wasn’t a childish prat, but he was still her son and if she could stand by Dean day after day of him beating her son, beating _her_ in front of Daisy, then why should he bother trying to make things easier for her? She’d just take Dean’s side anyway.

“Get the fuck outta my sight.” Dean grunted after his rant, shoving Eggsy aside. Michelle jerked out of Dean’s way as he stalked past, muttering something about a beer. Eggsy held his jaw as he stumbled, giving his mum a single glance before hurrying into his room. She’d nurse Dean that beer instead of his face, but he no longer held any anger towards her for it. He understood, he really did, but it was one of those things he needed to grit his teeth and look away from, forget that it existed by doing wild things like motor vehicle theft.

Sometimes getting sent to prison seemed like a better option among the midst of everything, but he couldn’t leave Daisy alone in the world, and no matter what his mum was still his mum. They needed him, even if he had been all but useless these past few years. Stealing, selling drugs and for a short time on his knees in disgusting alleys just didn’t make the cut where Dean was concerned. It was never enough, even when doing more would risk Eggsy getting caught. Eggsy had thought for some time that maybe Dean would’ve preferred that too, just to get rid of him—until he was proven right, and he had his life signed away to the Kingsman Agency, England’s discreet and (somewhat) secret gay mail-order-bride service.

At first Eggsy had laughed himself sick, much to his mum’s dismay and Dean’s ever boiling fury, but he had a pen in his hand, finger prints and his picture taken before he realised they were serious. An institute that specialised in finding boy brides for those lonely rich old perverts that were too high-class to carry around a prostitute, much less a male one. No, why not find an economically desperate boy, pay his family for their _loss_ and marry him, cut off all the ugly connotations and receive all the benefits? 

It turned out there was quite the market for it, and Dean was ever the crummy businessman. It had been a year since Eggsy had been registered and so far not one phone call from a potential _husband_. Eggsy knew it had to do with his record, and maybe that was why he kept messing up. Keep the perverts off his tail with his criminal record—definitely not wife material. Who would want him anyway? He was basically a stalling prostitute waiting for his big client. And if he didn’t come Eggsy was more than sure Dean would put him back on Smith Street. It was that thought that had him pondering prison, but Dean and Rottie had scared him off that escape as well, always banging on about his pink fucking lips. He wished he had never had to leave the Marines. He was stuck in hell and he didn’t know how to escape.

Later that evening Daisy found her way into his room, carried in by a silent Michelle. Eggsy hadn’t even noticed her until she was in his arms, wailing and red in the face. It was a usual thing now, Michelle coming to leave Daisy to fall asleep with Eggsy because she was crying too much. Dean’s voice carried through their small flat, a grating siren, and the prick had the audacity to say _Daisy_ was making the noise.

Neither of them said anything as Michelle shut the door, her eyes anywhere but his bruised face. He followed suit emotionlessly, watching Daisy fuss and whimper in his arms, kissing her little hands and cheeks and murmuring affections until she caught onto the change of atmosphere and soaked it up like a sponge. Eggsy loved her to death, no matter who her father was, and he was glad to know the feeling was mutual. She fell asleep in his arms more often than she did in their mum’s, greedy for his warmth and genuine attentions of which he wished he could give her more. In return her presence was usually enough to sooth his own nerves, breathing in her innocent scent as he curled around her, ignoring the pain in his cheek until he fell asleep.

 

The next morning hit him like a hangover. Daisy was gone, but he could hear her whining somewhere, his mum’s voice ebbing around it. He got up and dressed mechanically, the same routine every morning, and sauntered out when he couldn’t possibly stall any longer. He had some slight bruising on his left cheek and around his eye but he’d had worse, much worse.

In the kitchenette Michelle was making breakfast, something that smelt greasy and artificial, whilst Dean lounged on the couch. Eggsy ignored him completely, accepting a kiss on the better side of his face from his mum before he went to Daisy, hunching over her cot to squeeze her cheek and greet her. She made a loud noise at the sight of him, holding onto the railing tightly as she edged along the cot.

“’Ey, sweetheart.”

The phone rang, startling Michelle into nearly dropping the pan. Eggsy jumped up and hurried over to her, wordlessly taking the handle as she flicked her hand under some cold water before rushing to get the phone. Eggsy frowned as he watched her; it was a little early for her to be nervous, or high. He cast Dean a look right after, but for once the man wasn’t interested in sneering at him.

“Hello. Yes? Oh. Okay. Oh, er, Dean?” Michelle padded over to him, seeming to hesitate before offering the phone.

“What?” Dean grunted, giving her and the phone both a look. He sighed like it was the biggest thing in the world before snatching the phone and slamming it to his ear. Michelle stepped back and wrung her hands, glancing twice at Eggsy from the corner of her eye. Eggsy pretended not to notice, vacating the kitchenette idly as he tried to eavesdrop. Dean didn’t make it hard, in fact he was getting up with a suddenly vitality that spelling trouble.

“Yeah. Oh yeah, he’s ready whenever you need him. All right? Yeah, can do. Be right there.” Dean tossed the phone back at Michelle who caught it at the last second, and walked up to Eggsy. Eggsy stiffened and stood up straight and steeled himself, hating that it was the most he could do in his defence without giving Dean a reason to hit him again.

But Dean was smiling, an ugly sight, and though he was a cruel bastard Eggsy had never seen him smile when about to lose it. 

“Pack your fucking things, ya prick. You got a buyer. Michelle, cover up his fucking face and get ‘im ready. He’s gonna need to learn how to wear make up anyway.”

It was like a gut punch. An icy punch straight in the stomach when you least expect it. And this had been the very last thing Eggsy expected of his day, the _last_. Stealing another car and driving it into the police station sounded more probable than _finally_ getting a call from _them_.

“C-come on, babe.” Michelle urged somewhere in the background, hands on his shoulders as she steered him to her room that stank of mould and stale sweat and sex. 

He ghosted through, sitting where she put him and staring in shock at the faded wall, his mind racing a million miles per hour.

 _He was being bought_. 

_WHY_? He thought wildly after the initial shock simmered down. Almost all of his stunts were logged with that Kingsman place, they knew all about his thieving, his drugging, his loitering. They didn’t know about the prostitution because he had never gotten caught with that, but that was more to Dean’s relief than his own. That might have had him rejected completely, and he was still confused as to why the fuck he had even been accepted in the first place if it was such an fancy company. He was hardly desirable when it came to reputation, and weren’t that what rich fellas were all about?

Not to mention, what kind of man had taken a look at his file and thought “ _Yeah, this kid would make a good addition to my spoon collection_ ”? What supposedly high-class man looked at his file and missed all the shit he’d done, the barely noticeable glare in his eyes as they took his catalogue picture—a passable picture only possible due to the fact that Daisy had been right next to the camera in his mum’s arms. He’d taken one look at her little face and _snap_ , they got the best they’d get after much sighing from the photographer.

What kind of man would want to marry a delinquent like him? One probably as fucked up, that was for sure. He was going to be signed over to some depraved fat old bastard who would tie him up and call him a bad boy, accusing him of stealing and selling his shit just to _punish_ him. He wanted to be sick.

Then again, was it worse than Dean? Dean who forced him to his knees for his first blow job, hissing threats into his ear as his filthy friend unbuckled his trousers, glancing around the empty drive away. Dean who smacked him. Dean who smacked mum. Dean who would no doubt start smacking Daisy. Dean who would be unmonitored once he left, having no more Eggsy to pick on... Dean who would never change.

“...You need to leave him, mum. He ain’t good for you and Daisy.” He croaked, finally making eye contact with her.

“Don’t you be worrying about us.” She said softly, circling her fingers in one of her makeup containers.

“I’m serious, mum. What happens—?”

“Shh. You got my number remembered?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Call me whenever you like, okay baby?” She started applying concealer to his cheek, wiping gently over the bruising. She looked like she wanted to have a cry. _He_ wanted to have a cry, but if he did, if either of them did, it would only add fuel to Dean’s fire.

Instead he clenched his jaw and focused on his anger, unable to _not_ imagine the bastard waiting for him.

“If _he_ lets me.”

She tapped him under the chin. “Oi. We’ve spoken about this. These ain’t pub-drunk thugs, Eggsy. These are rich well-do-to gentlemen. You’ll have a whole new life.”

“As someone’s slave, mum.” He dropped his gaze again, his face heating up worse than when she’d first found out he’d been sucking pricks for a month.

She smoothed her hand over his sensitive cheek, more than she needed to to apply the concealer. “Don’t be silly, Eggsy. I’m sure he’s a lovely fellow. Especially if he was smart enough to see my boy is perfect.”

He swallowed down a list of rude retorts and shrugged coldly. “…An’ wha’about you and Daisy? You expect me to lay around in ‘is house all day lookin’ pretty while Dean does whatever he wants? I can’t do that.”

“You can and you will. Please Eggsy, just take this opportunity and go. I don’t want you to hurt anymore.” She cupped his face and turned it up, forcing him to look at her. “I love you baby, so much.” She whispered.

His already wavering nerves broke and he sucked in a breath, blinking back at tears as she kissed his forehead. “Yeah, I love you too, mum...”

“Are you girls fuckin’ ready?” Dean barked from the living room.

“Let’s pack.” Michelle suggested, pulling open his underwear draw like he was six again. He didn’t have the strength to argue, and dug out two old bags that were folded under his bed.

 

XxXxXxXxXx

The Kingsman Agency house was a fancy fucking place, and Eggsy hated it—he wanted to scrub his trainers all over the carpet. Everything looked like it cost a fortune and he couldn’t understand why it all had to be so detailed. Like curtains weren’t decoration enough, they had tassels and gold beads and snobbish designs on them that just made him furious. His expression soured further and he didn’t bother schooling it, trying not to look at Daisy lest he turn and run straight out the door. He wouldn’t see her again for who knows how long, but ultimately this would benefit her. 

Dean swaggered straight up to the front desk where a single elderly man stood, writing in what looked like a schedule book.

“We’re here to book in our son, Gary Unwin.” Dean announced, jabbing a finger back at Eggsy and looking like a right royal prat. At least Eggsy wasn’t the only one.

The man looked up with a small smile, but it faded entirely when he looked at Eggsy. “Is he all right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.”

“I am so sorry sir, but it looks as though he has a black eye.” The man pointed directly at Eggsy with a pen, as if Dean wasn’t currently puffing his chest out in a way that said _watch out, old man_. The security must be good, despite no guards or cameras in sight.

“He fell. What? Is that against the bloody law?” Dean growled.

“Our rules ask that care be taken of registered members as a suitor could appear at any given time. Now for example. It would be in poor taste to present Mr. Unwin to his suitor in poor condition.” The man said it so plainly and Eggsy blushed furiously, both at Dean being politely mouthed off to by his old man and at being referred to like some princess who fell in the mud on the way to her blind-wedding.

Dean stepped forward with a glint in his eyes, pointing a callous finger. “I’ll tell ya what is in poor taste—you tryna tell me how to look after me own family.”

“I apologise sir, I am only pointing out—”

“That’s okay, Henry. I’ll take it from here.” It was a new voice, and they all looked over to the door to the right where a tall bald man stepped out from, a clipboard in his hands.

Dean stuck his nose up, making both Michelle and Eggsy turn their faces in embarrassment. “Who’a you?”

“My name is Merlin. I’ll be handling this transaction between you and Mr Hart.”

“Mr. Hart, eh? Sounds fancy, eh boy?”

Eggsy grit his teeth and clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but at the four pairs of eyes on him. Merlin leaned over to stare at him, and he was about two seconds from receiving his own dirty look when he too gestured at Eggsy’s face.

“Though I must repeat what Henry mentioned. Mr. Hart is not going to appreciate those marks. If he declines or demands a cheaper price there is little I can do, the customers come first. This is an upstanding establishment and nothing short of excellence is provided. I trust you were told this when you signed the contract.”

“Calm your tits, all right? _Mr. Hart_ will be plenty satisfied with this one here.”

“Very well. Follow me. First we need to do the blood test.” Merlin reopened the door he came through and stepped back, ushering them in. Eggsy trailed after last, giving Daisy a weak smile as she stared at him over Michelle’s shoulder, eyes big in the unfamiliar surroundings.

“What for?” Dean asked as Merlin led them down a hallway, multiple doors and archways on either side. Eggsy resisted looking down any of them, clutching the handles of his bags tighter.

“I am sure you can understand the need to make sure that Mr. Unwin is clean.”

“We did what you asked ‘n kept ‘im away from all that.” 

_Much to Dean’s disadvantage_ , Eggsy thought.

They stopped some ways down the hall and filed into a small room that had less mahogany and more tiles. It was startling in comparison to the rest of the place, white and shiny and smelling of clinical swabs rather than furniture polish.

Merlin raised his brows and titled his head, as if that was that. “Then you have nothing to worry about. But alas, young people are crafty and we must take precautions. It wouldn’t do well to give your suitor a disease, would it?”

Eggsy stared at his shoes until he realised he was being addressed. He looked up and flushed, getting caught in Merlin’s heavy stare. “No?” he guessed, having heard something about disease.

Dean sighed. “Just get on with it.” 

There was an adjoining door inside the room and out stepped an older woman, drying her hands on a towel. She gave them all a quick once over and a methodical greeting which she received in kind, and Merlin gestured for Eggsy to sit in the chair available at her station, leaving his bags by Michelle. At least he hadn’t been stripped naked and put on the bed.

He just happened to look up when he saw Dean glaring at him. Eggsy frowned at first, wondering what the fuck he did to warrant that right in front of two strangers, then realised it was about the test itself, and probably what would happen if it came out screaming with some disease. It was of some comfort that Eggsy knew he didn’t have anything nasty, but it wouldn’t need more than a suspicion for Dean to raise his hand, especially if it meant losing out on this money.

“Mr. Unwin, I need you to answer a few routine questions. Would you like us to be alone?” the nurse asked, setting up her station deftly.

“No, jus’ get on with it.” Dean said.

Merlin folded his arms in front of him, catching Eggsy’s attention—purposely and smartly inconspicuous, Eggsy noted. “Mr. Unwin?”

Eggsy shifted awkwardly under the man’s intense gaze, licking his dry lips. “’S all right. Here’s fine.”

Merlin nodded and the nurse took it as a prompt to continue, leaning over besides Eggsy as she took his hand and squeezed each of his fingers tips, choosing one then jabbing it with a needle before he could figure out what the hell the squeezing was for. He hissed softly at the shock but otherwise held still, hand left held out as she took her sample to a small machine against the wall and slotted the needle into it.

When done she picked up her own clipboard from the desk and leaned against it, systematic in her motions but not with the purpose of being unkind. More like someone who had grown numb; Eggsy could relate. He curled his assaulted finger away and hunched his shoulders in the chair, feeling like he was on display.

“Onto the questions. Your honesty is required here, Mr. Unwin. Since signing up to Kingsman have you engaged in any sexual activities?”

He stared at the woman, who didn’t bother looking down her nose at him, much to his relief. He hesitated and glanced at Merlin—why, he didn’t know—and leaned a little closer to the nurse as he spoke, cheeks red. “…Like, with another person?” he asked—because who the hell didn’t masturbate?

“Yes.” She held her pen to the page, hand moving as soon as he answered.

“No.”

“Have you gotten any tattoos?”

“No.”

“Have you started smoking?”

“No.”

“Have you taken drugs?”

“No.”

“Good. Have you been sick at all? Anything that warranted a visit to the doctor?”

“Nah, not really.” He shook his head with a sigh, leaning back now that the embarrassing part seemed to have passed. His mum bounced Daisy quietly in his peripheral vision, Dean standing besides them with his shoulders squared. Merlin was to Eggsy’s side, keeping a few feet of distance and somehow managing to pull of looking at ease while looking like a principle.

“Have you sustained any serious physical—”

Eggsy glanced back up at her when she stopped short, ready with an apology for getting distracted, but she was staring at him with a look of surprise that was quickly furrowing into the lines on her forehead. She looked up, first at Merlin who said nothing, then at Dean who shifted, and if Eggsy didn’t know better he’d have thought the bastard was actually feeling uncomfortable.

“’E fell. Clumsy shite, he is.” Dean shrugged, hands in his pockets.

As much as all the disapproving attention on his bruising sparked a little candle of longing inside Eggsy, it just made his face flame and he turned his face down, shrugging it all off. “...Sorry, didn’t know we’d get a call or else I would’a gone down them stairs more carefully.”

“All right.” The nurse said without much conviction, and put the clipboard down in favour of going back to the machine. 

Eggsy’s knee started to bounce as they waited, Merlin checking his watch once and looking out of the small window. 

“It’s clear, you can go ahead, Merlin.”

“There, bloody waste of time.” Dean huffed, already at the door.

“Very good, thank you for your patience.” Merlin said to them all, smiling a small smile when Michelle smiled at him, shame and apology in her eyes. 

Eggsy didn’t expect the hand on shoulder when Merlin addressed him, head inclined. “Let’s go meet your suitor then.”

 

Oh god, it was happening. Eggsy couldn’t breathe, burning his nasal passages as he sucked in breath after breath. He held tightly to his bags, ignoring the petting to the back of his head as his mum tried to sooth him, saying things he blocked out. He didn’t want to hear her last regrets or her last loving words. It would just seem all too final. This wasn’t a _death_ sentence. It was just…marriage. A union, a partnership with some bloke he knew bollocks about and would end up in his bed tonight. Fuck, he should’ve banged someone long ago.

It only took one corridor and two doors down and they entered into a study. It was full of books and plants, smelling faintly of pine and whiskey. The walls were full of bequest mementos and heirloom-like things that Eggsy knew nothing about, other than they could probably feed them for a month if sold.

But the room zeroed out when someone suddenly stood, having been seated and blending in with one of the plush armchairs situated in the room. They all went still as the man stepped forward with a grace that could make angels cry. He was an older man, not _old_ , but definitely not young, and he was dressed for success, posh suit and all. Extremely well groomed and not a hair out of place, glasses tucked handsomely on his nose. Eggsy had absolutely no idea what to think as the sight hit him like a train nor what to judge of this compared to things he’d been thinking other than the sudden fear that this man was going to be extremely stern and controlling. He hadn’t even said anything and Eggsy felt like straightening his posture and making sure his clothes weren’t wrinkled.

“Mr. Hart, let me introduce Mr. Baker and Mrs Unwin, and her son Gary Unwin.” Merlin gestured, stepping aside so Mr. Hart could face them.

“He likes Eggsy.” Michelle said, bravely ignoring the looks both Eggsy and Dean threw her. Eggsy looked back at the man, but all he saw was a ghost of a smile forming before Dean cut in.

“Michelle, please. Good t’meet ya.” He shoved his hand out, jaw to the side and nose up.

Mr. Hart took it without hesitation, and if Dean squeezed his hand to assert some kind of power play Eggsy couldn’t tell. His suitor remained impassive, giving a firm shake before untangling his fingers and gesturing to the available chairs.

“Likewise. Please ma’am, have a seat, both of you.” He added, giving Eggsy his first look. Eggsy froze at first, their eyes meeting through the glasses, and it was the second icy gut punch of the day. 

“And please, call me Harry.” _Harry_ said, stealing just another moment of Eggsy’s increasingly reddening face before nodding again towards the last empty seat aside from his own, and sat back down like he was some kind of ballet professional. If this man wasn’t about to _buy_ him for quite a decent amount (of which Eggsy couldn’t understand either, they’d all been shocked when the agency accepted Dean’s proposal), Eggsy was sure Dean would’ve had something derisive to say.

Eggsy stumbled gracelessly into his seat, closer to Harry than he wished but at least further from Dean with his mum between them. Merlin remained standing, walking up to stand between Dean and Harry’s chairs, flipping through his board. 

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Or maybe it was only Eggsy’s side that felt like that. Harry was looking at Daisy with a smile, making Michelle smile in return like the proud mum she ought to be every second of the day.

“A gorgeous child.” Harry said, blinking as if everything was perfectly normal and he hadn’t just picked Eggsy from a catalogue and decided to _purchase_ him for anything less than free-range fucking. What was this bloke’s catch? Eggsy couldn’t see it physically, and he highly doubted age was any kind of problem seeing as Mr. Hart looked to be aging better than a bottle of fine wine, so what was it? God, it had to be something to do with the sex, didn’t it? He was probably already mentally dressing Eggsy in schoolgirl outfits.

“Thank you, Mr. Hart.” Michelle beamed, cuddling Daisy. Harry opened his mouth, but Dean spoke first.

“Now then, shall we move this along?”

Eggsy accidentally caught the not-so-subtle look of annoyance on Merlin’s hard face, but Harry nodded simply, as if he was being asked on his opinion on his favourite colour for the million time.

“Indeed. What is wrong with his face?”

Eggsy jumped in surprise and looked at Harry, who was looking at Dean, and hell if Eggsy couldn’t _taste_ the list of head snapping retorts that were probably going through Dean’s mind.

Dean smiled nastily, ineffectively hiding his own irritability beneath it. “Born with it I’m afraid. But—”

Harry cut in this time, voice like ice, and Eggsy shrunk into his seat on instinct. 

“The bruises, Mr. Baker.”

Dean paused, not used to being the one to shut up. They all paused, breaths held as Dean chewed out his words. "...Like I told your guy up front, ‘e fell. It ain’t such a big bloody thing.” He was sounding nervous now, not that these strangers could tell, but Eggsy could recognise it from the very rare times when someone with a little more guts and dominance in their world came strutting through. Though here and now it was all about losing the money, Dean would never be intimidated by a man wearing a suit, and carrying an umbrella _what the fuck_.

Harry raised a brow and inclined his hand to the pages Merlin was holding. “It is when you expect me to pay the full price.”

“I’ve explained as such, Mr. Hart.” Merlin added.

Dean rolled his eyes, shifting in a way to make himself look bigger, and for once it didn’t work. Eggsy blinked, suddenly seeing just how pathetic it was. It had to be the room.

“Look, kids get bruises, ‘nough said. Now are you gonna take him or what?”

“You’re not the boy’s biological father, are you?”

“What of it?”

Harry immediately turned to Michelle. “Mrs Unwin, how are you?”

“Me?” she blurted, before remembering herself and sitting straighter, receiving a nod from Harry. “I-I’m fine. Thank you.”

Harry arched a gentle brow at Daisy. “What is her name?”

“Daisy.”

“Daisy. Beautiful.”

“I thought we was selling the boy, not the girl.” Dean grunted, waving a knee and picking at the descent of the armrests on his chair.

Michelle shot him a startled look; Eggsy nearly jumped to his feet. “ _Dean_.” She hissed.

Harry on the other hand could have missed that for all they knew, he had his attention with Merlin who handed him a few pages. Eggsy tried to regulate his breathing as he tore his eyes from Dean; there’d be enough panting later, no use getting worked up now when his goose was already cooked. 

“Summarised on this page is the offer I am making, above and beyond his requirements. Included is a list of benefits to this union and a plan for Eggsy should I pass unexpectedly, aside from the initial fee.” Harry then leaned over and offered it to Michelle, who took it carefully as though she expected him to rip it back. Eggsy himself wanted to rip it from her and take a look, knowing each _nice_ thing on there would only equal more pain for him.

“It is very a generous offer, Mrs Unwin. One of the most we’ve ever offered.” Merlin announced as she brought the pages to her face. “In short Eggsy will be set for life, provided of course he fulfils his duties in return to all that he has promised when signing up as an eligible bride.”

“This...this is...”she trailed off breathlessly.

Dean leaned over nosily. “Lemme see.”

Merlin cocked his head. “Actually Mr. Baker, seeing as you are neither the boy’s father nor Mrs. Unwin’s legal husband you have zero say in this.”

Eggsy’s brows shot up into his hair line and he cracked a smile, if only for a second before Dean was snarling and waving his open hand at Michelle.

“Like hell I don’t. Give it here, Michelle.”

She did as he asked and snuck Eggsy a look he couldn’t decipher—maybe she also knew he was in for it if this man was compensating them as much as he was. “He should see.” She said quietly when she caught that Merlin and Harry were regarding her. They didn’t say anything, Eggsy wasn’t sure why he wanted them to, and they watched Dean flip through the pages with a Cheshire grin on his mug.

“Well, rich bastard ain’t ya?” he scoffed happily. Michelle hid her face behind a scratch and Eggsy looked up at the ceiling, realising this too would fall on him. He’d no doubt be treated even more like dirt with Dean proving just how rubbish they were. His suitor didn’t respond to that, leaning casually to his right as they waited for Dean’s void approval. “…So if ya die, he’s still entitled to this amount?”

“In monitored monthly payments by Kingsman, yes. _If_ I die, which I have no plans to.”

Eggsy was too busy peeking at Harry and the ridiculous confidence in his voice at such a statement to see the papers coming—hadn’t he seen the Titanic? Even Eggsy saw that one. They just missed Michelle and Daisy and smacked him in the chest. He jumped out of surprise and looked around for a cue.

“Well, go on, take a look.” Dean said, impatiently.

Eggsy didn’t even try to stop the glare, but he did hesitate looking at the pages. Only when he did so with a grounding sigh did Merlin chime in. “…As you can see, more than generous. Especially considering Eggsy’s...background.”

Oh yeah, he was getting a hiding like a street rat for sure.

Dean on the other hand laughed loudly. “Please, like there’s any boys in your fancy families that would sign up here. You _need_ boys like Muggsy. All right, let’s do this. Sign and whatnot.”

“Mrs. Unwin?” Harry inclined himself towards her. “Does it all seem in order?”

“Well—” She stopped to look at Dean, as if his answer wasn’t obvious. “Yes, Mr Hart.”

“Eggsy?” Merlin called.

Eggsy was in shock. Monthly dental visits for free? He hadn’t even seen a dentist since before he was in his teens. A family doctor, a house plan, the monthly insurance payouts, not to mention the actual cost of taking care of him— _the fuck_. Dean could sell him three times over and rent him on Smith Street for eternity and still not reach the amount printed in bold at the bottom of the page. And that was still not even taking into a count every other expense it would cost to take care of another human being, even at the minimum. 

He would’ve sat gawking for hours if Merlin hadn’t addressed him by _Eggsy_ , the name strange on his tongue and jolting Eggsy from his daze. He looked around, throat dry, and managed to look at Merlin instead of Harry Hart, who was dishing out a small fortune to call him his. 

“...Yeah?”

“Are you in agreement to enter this union?” Merlin asked patiently.

Eggsy looked his mum and Daisy, the only two things that mattered. And suddenly he could see them with a bigger flat, a full fridge, maybe a car if Dean didn’t squander it all. Daisy with new dresses and better quality food, at least Dean never did starve them. Maybe his mum would get help instead of getting more drugs, maybe they’d get that goldfish she’s always wanted. Maybe a lot of things, and if he could help them, then he had to. What else was he going to do anyway? He was only going downhill, and he couldn’t help them from there.

“…Yeah.” He eventually breathed, looking at his lap.

“Very good.” Merlin nodded, sorting papers around in his hand and spreading them across the coffee table. “I’ll explain each form slowly before you sign it. These are—”

“No need, let’s just sign it and be done.” Dean said, shifting to the edge of his seat, looking much happier.

Merlin levelled him with a deadpan look that he smoothed out before anyone could see—anyone besides Eggsy, who wished he had the grounds to do the same to the bastard who was so fucking eager to throw him to the wolves. “It is a legality, Mr. Baker. Eggsy has a right to know exactly what he is agreeing to. So, may I start?”

 

Eggsy honestly didn’t hear much of what Merlin said. He knew he ought to have listened, but each time he tried it just felt like another icy shot right in the navel. So he slowly and slyly reached over to take Daisy’s hand and play with it between his fingers. Michelle pretended not to notice, letting Daisy lean on the armrest so she could reach him in return. Eggsy made sure to follow visual and audible clues as to when his attention would be tested, making non verbal sounds in understanding. He was pretty sure everyone knew he was barely listening but no one pointed him out, and he kept his blank gaze on the table where the damning pages lay rather than their faces.

Over an hour later and it was done and he signed here and there and over here, leaning back for his mum to do the same, leaving Dean sulking in the background. And if Mr. Hart was staring at him Eggsy pretended not to notice, sniffing and putting up his usual front whenever he had to fight to prove his masculinity. Any sign of weakness and Dean pounced, forcing Eggsy to be someone he didn’t want to be. Would Hart want him to be a fighter like Dean did, provoking him until he was hiding his tears behind aggressive fronts and fists, or a submissive tart that lowered his head and let the tears flow?

Merlin disrupted his derailing nerves with a clap of his hands and a smile that felt out of place. “And that settles it. Congratulations, young Mr. Hart. Take as long as you need to, say your partings and such. Mr. Hart and I will be outside.” 

Harry stood immediately, picking up his umbrella and giving them a curt nod before following Merlin out. As soon as the door shut Michelle was on her feet, dragging Eggsy into a bone crushing hug that made Daisy squirm between them. Eggsy swallowed and hugged her back, feeling every one of her ribs.

“Oh baby.” She breathed, eyes clenched. “You’ll be okay. You hear? You deserve this. Just be good and make the most of it. He looks like a good man. And don’t forget you’re allowed to contact Mr. Merlin if anything feels wrong—”

“Yeah, yeah he gets it, Michelle.” Dean snapped, ruining the moment just by existing. They parted reluctantly, and Eggsy looked away rather than glaring at Dean. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to give his mum nightmares about this particular moment, he didn’t want her to go home remembering the last expression on his face to be haunted.

“But you ain’t gonna do that, are ya? B’cause then they’ll do a refund and you’ll be taking the food outta your mum’s mouth.” Dean stalked up, grabbing Michelle’s arm as he slapped his palm into Eggsy’s chest, knocking him back a step as if to say _stay_. “So be a man and handle it. Or a bitch, whichever works be’er. C’mon, Michelle.”

Eggsy watched with a rising bubble of bile in his throat as Dean yanked his family away, his mum looking stricken as though she was trying to fool herself as much as him. 

“I love you, Eggsy. Call me soon, yeah?” She begged, eyes wet.

Lifting his chin and throwing on his trademark _yeah-imma-little-shit_ smile, he nodded. “I will. Bye Daisy, see you later, yeah? Love you mum.” 

Dean slammed the door on him, and for a moment Eggsy stood, smiling painfully at the door, completely alone, in every way possible.

 

The moment didn’t last long enough for his mask to crack, and the door slowly opened. Merlin popped his head in first with the funniest expression, as if expecting Eggsy to have disappeared.

Eggsy let his stance fall, from his face to his shoulders, and suddenly felt at a complete loss. Merlin stalled his awkwardness a little when he stepped in, closing the door a little but not shutting it. He walked straight up to Eggsy, his brows set deep and serious to the point Eggsy thought he had already done something wrong.

“Listen close. There is a three minute period in which you can tell me now confidentially if you’ve been forced in anyway into this arrangement. Is this the case?”

He wasn’t expecting that. Eggsy blinked dumbly and opened his mouth, glancing at the door and half expecting to see Mr—his _husband_ eavesdropping like a teenage girl. The question was...reassuring, he supposed, but he wished there could be some kind of reassurance that he hadn’t been forced into a nightmare rather than a simply put arrangement.

“...No, everything is fine.”

“All right. Come on, then.” Merlin took Eggsy’s bags before he could argue, taking long strides with his long legs so Eggsy had to hurry after.

Harry was waiting down the hall, glancing at his watch and looking for all intents and purposes, completely at ease. Eggsy wished that meant good news, rather than a psychopath hiding in the skin of a seemingly well-mannered gentleman. 

When they reached said man he inclined his head slightly, smiling a small smile Eggsy was hoping was meant to comfort rather than unnerve. He hadn’t seen enough to compare. 

“Eggsy. May I call you that? Or shall I address you as Gary?”

That was unexpected too, but Eggsy couldn’t quite figure out if he was being polite or sneaky. He shrugged, nowhere near confident to reply in any negative form until he knew boundaries. “Eggsy’s fine.” He mumbled, kicking himself in fear of needing to repeat it and make his face redder.

Harry nodded anyway, then Merlin butted in. “Here’s his luggage.”

This time Eggsy cut in, hands out. “I can take it.” He said quickly, looking between them.

Harry took the bags anyway, ignoring the kaleidoscope of emotion rushing through his face. “Nonsense, you just relax. Merlin, I trust you’ll see to the last details?”

“As always, Harry. Goodbye for now, and good luck.” 

There was a moment where Eggsy was almost sure the last part was directed at Harry instead of him, but that was just ridiculous. He stood awkwardly as Merlin gave them a parting nod and headed off. Harry turned in the opposite direction a moment later and walked off, calling over his shoulder, “Come on then, Eggsy.”

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never realised how amazing it is to write without wondering DO AMERICANS CALL THIS BY THIS WORD?? It gets so tricky.


	2. And Into the Scones?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOSH what kind support, thank you all so much! I was reeling all week adafshdgfsafd.
> 
> unFun fact, I live in Durban, South Africa. ON SMITH STREET. We were a British colony and what would you know, our Smith Street has been the hotspot for prostitutes since its conception. I grew up here on Smith so you can imagine the cheap thrills I got over this whole thing from the film. The English left the trade behind there when they left the country it seems. Now if they had just left Colin and Taron...
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

They took a Kingsman cab to Harry’s place. Eggsy hadn’t even realised they existed. The driver loaded Eggsy’s two bags in the boot and Harry opened the door for him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Eggsy tried not to stumble in like a drunk, sitting stiffly as Harry shut the door and idled around, passing words to the driver who replied in like as old friends. Eggsy couldn’t understand them from inside the car and he didn’t try to, his heart hammering away in an effort to keep him mobile should he need to run.

But this wasn’t Smith Street. This wasn’t an underhand dealing with some drunk stranger that shambled out a pub that he could elbow in the bollocks and run from if things started getting out of hand. He wasn’t being rented for ten minutes for a handful of a quid, and he wasn’t counting down the clock till he could scamper home and drink a glass of bleach.

 _He wasn’t_ allowed _to do that anymore._

He was _married_ , there was no running. There was no exchange of money anymore, no time limit, no saying _no_. At least on Smith Street he could decline a bloke, make up some excuse or outright tell him to fuck off. That was over. There was no sticking his nose up at man sidling into the cab besides him and telling him no. There was no standing in _his_ house, _his_ bedroom, sitting in _his_ bed and saying _no fuck off_. Besides the possibility of being smacked around and raped if he resisted, he’d signed a contract agreeing to provide such duties when asked of him. Obviously he _could_ say no (if he had a legitimate excuse as this was technically a business transaction for the most part), Merlin had stated that very clearly, but it would be in poor taste and Eggsy had no chance winning a case over his buyer if it got ugly and went to court. He would be the bought whore who failed to live up to his end of the more than generous bargain.

No one spoke during the journey. Eggsy’s mind was far away in a hundred different places, none of which were pleasant. He had no pleasant places, nowhere to truly call safe, to truly call home. He watched the buildings pass until they were in a new neighbourhood, one he had only ever roamed when pick pocketing because rich people didn’t seem to mind buying new phones like a pack of smokes. He tried to keep track of the road names but forgot them as soon as they reached the next. He had an idea of where they were, and the cab soon came to a stop, facing a private little house tucked down the row of a few others.

Harry said nothing as he and the driver both got out, leaving Eggsy to rub his unusually clammy hands against his jeans and twist his neck in search of some kind of prompt. He stayed put, having been prompted along so far, so that was his best bet. A moment later and he almost wasn’t surprised to find Harry at his side of the door, opening it for him.

“Eggsy.”

And suddenly Eggsy was a deer caught in the headlights. This was the first moment he actually _looked_ at this man in the face, meeting his eyes for more than a quick glance without the filter of other people. There was next to nothing written on Harry’s face or in his dark eyes, and Eggsy was suddenly terrified. How was he supposed to gauge the situation like this? Just go in blind? Was Harry trying to unnerve him by being so calm, so casual and so polite? Rude and rough Eggsy could handle, he grew up in that, but he had never had a man treat him with manners before. What was the proper response here, a simple thank you or a bow-your-head and clasp-your-hands? God he was getting dizzy.

“Your luggage, Mr. Hart.” The driver said from somewhere outside, giving Eggsy the push to climb out of the car. But before he could grab them Harry put a hand on his shoulder, scalding the area.

“Open the door, would you?” he asked as he held a set of keys up, looking once to his front door.

Eggsy hesitated, looking blankly at the driver, then his bags, then Harry before taking the keys. He pretended not to flinch when their fingers touched and quickly turned, shoulders to his ears as he hurried to do so before Harry returned and waited on him. Luckily Harry had singled out the key for him and he had the door opened in a second. He opened it minutely then paused, peeking back to where Harry strolled up slowly with his bags, umbrella tucked under his arm.

“Go on.” Harry urged, and Eggsy stepped in. He held the door open wide first, looking around second. And fuck, he wished he didn’t feel as jealous as he did, even if the man had way too many paintings than seemed necessary. It was clear this man had never had to worry about rent or food.

“This way.”

Despite the dreadful inkling that this man liked to direct the constant flow of instructions made him feel a little calmer. He shut the door carefully, locking it with shaky fingers before following Harry upstairs. He glanced down as he went, just to make sure he wasn’t treading dirt in on the carpet.

Upstairs there were only two rooms. Both doors were ajar, one a kind of study and the other Harry’s bedroom. Figures a man of Harry’s age wouldn’t have any spare bedrooms, it wasn’t like he had a wife who could get pregnant, and his home certainly wasn’t baby friendly to entertain the possibility. If Eggsy had to guess he’d say Harry had lived alone for a while, and that would mean he’d be more clinical about Eggsy doing things his way so not to disrupt the flow of his routine.

Eggsy tried not to stall entering the bedroom, but he hovered in the doorway anyway. His bags were on the bed on the side furthest from the door, and Harry stood at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets and shoulders squared.

Eggsy swallowed.

“It’s all right.” Harry said, clearly and precisely. “Come on in.”

Eggsy hesitated a moment longer before squaring his own shoulders and obeying, taking a quick look of the room. It matched the rest of the house to be honest, neat and quaintly decorated and homely in a way completely different to what Eggsy was used to. It looked both lived in and like some kind of old film set.

He remembered the keys in his hand and held them up, then handed them over as Harry opened his palm and took them.

“I’ve made place for your clothes, feel free to pack them away. If anything needs immediate cleaning there is a basket in the bathroom. That door leads to the en-suite. Wash up while I make us some lunch, and if you need anything, please don’t be afraid to ask.”

Harry left him with that, passing by without any physical contact and disappearing silently.

As soon as there was noise downstairs Eggsy collapsed against the wall with a deep breath. He shut his eyes and just _breathed_ , hands shaking more than he was proud of.

He was okay. He was all right. He hadn’t been mauled yet, by some miracle—unless Harry just got off on making him anxious. Was Harry _actually_ making lunch down there, or standing around wondering if Eggsy was freaking out? He couldn’t recall if he’d seen desire in Harry’s eyes, but it must have been there because Eggsy definitely wouldn’t have been chosen over his sparkling personality. He couldn’t even pretend that was the case; he knew he was a little shit even without Dean’s help. The only thing that Harry could’ve possibly been drawn to was his youth and looks—although maybe criminal offences if he liked bad boys...

Bad boy or not, Eggsy wasn’t going to try his luck yet. He stuffed his clothes in the empty draws available, hung up his couple jackets and jeans and tried not to touch anything of Harry’s. And hell, the man had suits like he was a damn tailor. On that note, what did he do for a living? Or was he from some wealthy old family related to the Queen, like a Duke or something? The clothes didn’t seem to provide an answer so he moved on, nudging his empty bags under the bed before stepping into the bathroom.

 _Wash up_ , Eggsy realised was probably the hint he’d been waiting for. It was far more subtle than expected, but he could understand Harry not wanting to fuck him in his clean bed if he was dirty from his shabby old flat, it was no secret he came from a poor home. He realised with a flush he hadn’t even showered that morning, it had all moved so fast. Eggsy lifted his arm and sniffed at himself, a few levels of mortification flushing through him thinking he had been stinking the entire time.

He couldn’t smell anything horrid, but a shower didn’t sound half bad.

Eggsy ended up stuffing his current outfit in the laundry basket anyway, and proceeded to scrub himself pink under the warm water. The soap smelt good and the colour scheme of the room was calming, if not weird with its odd decor. Butterflies? He had no idea what to make of that, nor of the brand new toothbrush sitting coyly next to the sink.

He tried to distract himself as he cleaned his body, but every brush of his rough palms just reminded him of what was to come. He hadn’t been groped in a good while and the most he had ever done, consensual or not, was oral. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to keep up his courage until the night was over. It was just sex, he knew, but it was still daunting. He wished he had the same guts now that he did when nicking Rottie’s car, when running from the police, when staring down Dean’s fist; he wanted to be a man about this, not a bitch. He was going to smash Dean’s face in one day for this. In fact, for _everything_. 

Unfortunately not even the thought of beating Dean to a pulp helped to distract him, and he spent a good long while internally debating whether or not to prep himself. He bit his bottom lip half to death as he battled with himself, his hand straying back and forth from his lower body. He’d done it a few times when wanking off, curious like any young person but doing it now with the aim of loosening himself for his first fuck with a man he just met just made him tremble. He knew he ought to so to make things easier for himself—or at least he heard it would—but after at least a half hour of debating and wasting the dissolving soap he gave up and decided against it. He’d suffer through if it came to that, or grimace through it if Harry turned out to be a hands-on lover.

Yeah, that sounded about right. Suffer through it like he did everything else, he could do that. And the sooner it happened, the better. 

 

To say Harry looked shocked when he came downstairs into the kitchen was an understatement. He had a pan in one hand and a dishtowel in the other, staring at Eggsy like he was completely naked. Which he had almost been, but Eggsy didn’t want to give off the impression that he was a slut. So he snooped through the wardrobe until he found Harry’s robes, and slipped on the softest one available which happened to be a beautiful crimson one. It kept him more than modestly covered, something a good decent wife could pull off, all the while making it more than obvious he was naked underneath should Harry wish to meet him half way.

He stood with his hands in the pockets, incorporating his own casual stance rather than mimicking the one he’d seen on Harry and tried not to look awkward or miserable. The kitchen smelt delightful and he was surprised to feel the onset of hunger beneath his tingling nerves.

“Hope you don’t mind...” He said when Harry remained silent, trailing off as he looked down at himself, barefoot and hair still wet. Harry had on a grey apron, and for some reason the domesticity of it helped to ease the tension a little, at least on Eggsy’s side.

“Not at all.” Harry said immediately, and with that turned and continued his tasks. “Please, have a seat.”

Eggsy turned back to the dining area, stalling his way into a seat. “D’ya need help?”

“No, thank you. I’m almost done.”

He must have definitely lived alone for a while if he could cook this well. Eggsy couldn’t remember his mum making anything that smelt half this good, even on her good days. Within the minute Harry filled the table with breakfast food and two jugs, one of orange juice and the other of milk. Harry set it all up like an art piece, and by the time he had sat down too Eggsy was too afraid to touch anything.

“Help yourself.” Harry said, giving him a nod.

Eggsy would’ve hesitated a little longer, but Harry only moved to serve himself after Eggsy did. But unlike his fiasco in the shower, Eggsy found himself thoroughly distracted once he took the first bite. It was all instinct from there, stuffing his face around as much manners as he could muster, keeping his eyes down and trying not to soil Harry’s robe. Once or twice he thought Harry was about to say something, eating at a far more decent pace, but he was left to his own devices. 

The food settled his stomach rather than upset it, and the tremor in his hands had simmered down nicely too. His shoulders weren’t as high as they were an hour ago and he could breathe a little further into his stomach. It was always amazing what a good meal could do, how had he lasted so long without one? And if Harry was going to cook like this—or at least teach him how to cook like this—then maybe he wouldn’t be half as miserable as he already was.

“Eggsy.”

Eggsy stopped mid-bite into his second scone, and looked up over it.

“I said, slow down. Besides cramps it _is_ possible to choke and die on a bite of food.”

Eggsy went red. He swallowed his mouthful—realising just how bad that must’ve looked, his mouth still full as he went in for another bite—and lowered the scone.

“Sorry.”

“No need for apologies. You’ve a healthy appetite. But there will always be food so there is no need rush. Take your time.”

Eggsy nodded, but he still glanced self-consciously at his plate, finally realising his stomach was beginning to hurt. He hadn’t eaten so much in a long time, it wasn’t quite the same as throwing back beers till you’re full. 

“Sorry.” He repeated, nodding again as he leaned back and held his stomach. And there were the cramps.

“Was it good?” Harry said, sipping juice from his glass.

“Yes. It was—everything was great.” Eggsy blurted. “Do you—erm...I mean, I guess you already know but cooking ain’t one o’ my strengths. But I’ll learn if you wanna teach me. Or—or I can get a book. Or YouTube—”

“I’ll do the cooking for now. You can join me when you’re ready.”

“All right.”

The next moment was quiet between them and Eggsy tried to pretend he was interested in the very origins of Harry’s robe, realising it was perhaps a little bold of a thing to do on his first day here. He had half-expected to be bent straight over the table, not served a first class meal. Maybe Harry was just a traditional bloke, feed him first, fuck him later. And well, there wasn’t anything wrong with that really. Dean’s logic was the other way around, the pig.

Then his stomach made a loud embarrassing sound, accompanied by a painful clench in his gut that made him wince right after. He didn’t know it was possible to blush as much as he was doing that day, and found himself withering under Harry’s neutral staring.

“I’ll get you something for that.” Harry announced, getting up to do so without either a smirk or a sneer, and Eggsy wished he wasn’t as fucked up as he was or he might’ve been able to accept the hint of kindness for what it was—simple kindness. 

He waited like a guilty child until Harry returned, handing him the medicine silently. “Thanks...”

“You’re welcome.” 

Eggsy didn’t bother finishing what was on his plate and waited quietly for Harry to finish. He offered his help to clean up and Harry accepted. He made sure to be extra careful, moving fast but carefully and following Harry’s directions until everything was washed and packed and leftovers put away. 

It was incredibly odd to do so while he was completely naked under the robe, more so than when they’d been eating, but Harry didn’t make it any weirder by staring like most dirty bastards did.

With the apron hung up and glasses placed on a shelf, Harry headed towards the stairs. Eggsy followed after him a few steps apart, and stopped when Harry paused on the stairs and turned to regard him.

“Feel free to explore. I am afraid my home isn’t very big, but I rather like it that way. Boasting is quite rude. I’ll be washing up for the evening, the house laptop is in the living room if you get bored.” 

Eggsy nodded his understanding and glanced around, supposing there was enough to look through while he waited.

“And Eggsy,” Harry added with a slight shift to his tone that drew Eggsy’s weary attention immediately. “I expect no favours from you tonight. Do try to relax, you’ve had a trying day.”

Harry left him like that. Eggsy frowned at the spot he vacated until he heard the bedroom door close, at another loss as to what to do. So he wasn’t going to be fucked tonight? That was just mental, Harry was probably going to change his mind in the shower and proposition him in bed. Either Harry was definitely a sadistic pervert who liked mind games, or he was a genuine bloke trying to be decent. Either way the situation was what it was, and Eggsy knew he was gonna have to put out. It was their wedding day, ceremony and rings or not.

Exploring would have to wait, Eggsy had bigger things on his mind. He found his way to the living room, realising with a pop of his brows that there was no TV, and quickly located the laptop. He plopped himself in one of the stupidly expensive chairs and opened the device, going straight for the internet where he shamelessly Googled _first time anal sex_. There was no blushing for this, this was serious and he wasn’t going to be fooled by Harry’s apparent chivalry. 

The advice was pretty much what he already knew. Take your time, start off small with fingers and abuse the lube. Pillow under the bum helped, as did the reverse position on his stomach. Maybe he should have just prepped after all, all the _please take your time or you’ll hurt yourself!_ sentences on every other blog was making him antsy. 

Okay so, lube and fingering and relaxing, it wasn’t rocket science.

Eggsy spent the next hour reading through the blogs and forums for the lack of anything else to do. He wasn’t ready yet to care about the house and he didn’t want to hover around Harry. He read through the good stories and the bad, laughing at the antics people got up to, and shifting at the horrible experiences some were unfortunate to have. He had his own share of sickening memories but he knew they could’ve been so much worse, and he suddenly had a little more appreciation for the plush bed upstairs. It was better than pavement and backrooms in seedy clubs.

Maybe mum was right; he ought to make the most of it. Be optimistic, yeah?

Anyway Harry wasn’t thirty years old, how long could he last with a young fresh toy?

 

When he finally crept upstairs Harry was in his dark grey pyjamas, possibly satin by the glimmer; Eggsy had never really seen or felt satin to be sure. He was idling around his side of the room, tapping away on his phone and scribbling down in a small note book with the other hand, simultaneously.

Then he spoke suddenly. “I would offer to sleep on the couch but as you see they just aren’t built for that, and I am not as young as I once was.”

Eggsy glanced back down the hallway, frowning. “D’you want me to?”

Harry put his phone and the pen down, and turned to properly face him, a small frown on his face. “Certainly not, you’ll hurt your back. Like I said, I expect nothing of you but to get a good night’s rest. I can see the weariness if your eyes and it wasn’t built up from one day of stress. Put off the light when you’re ready.”

Eggsy watched awkwardly as Harry pulled the covers back, getting in like he was actually preparing to sleep. Sighing, feeling bravely irritable, Eggsy flipped the switch with a little more attitude than needed and headed to his side of the bed, climbing on but sitting back on his calves as he faced his husband. The room wasn’t yet very dark, the sun was still setting. The robe parted at the knees but he pretended not to notice, wondering with yet another flush if he should’ve shaved. Fucking hell he was going to be the worse bride in the world. How was being a pleb easier than this?

“Sex is a stress relief, innit?” he hinted when Harry raised a brow at his hovering.

“It can be.” Harry said, neutrally, shifting back into the pillows with that stupid confidence. 

“Then...” Eggsy hinted, trying his best to keep his breathing controlled as his heart tried to take off like the propellers of a helicopter. “I don’t mind. I’m not a kid. And I’m not scared.” The last part came out against his better judgement, and it was immediately obvious Harry saw through it. 

The older man gave him a thoughtful look. “I’d rather not pop your cherry on your first night here while you’re wondering if I am going to hurt you or not.”

Wasn’t that a little self-centred to assume Eggsy was a virgin, even if he was? He could’ve lied on his contract when he said he was a virgin, it wasn’t like he was a girl for them to check. Did Harry not think he was good enough for people to want to fuck him? Not cute enough? Not mature enough? What was with this man? How would he react if he found out that Eggsy wasn’t as innocent as he thought, having sucked a few cocks as a fucking _rent boy_. He’d probably have bedded him by now if he did, no reason to make it romantic or whatever the hell he was trying to do. It was a bit late to bring that up though.

“...With all due respect sir, I’d rather get it outta the way. Please.” Eggsy added, giving Harry his most serious expression beneath the flaming of his cheeks at Harry’s choice of words. 

Harry leaned up on one elbow and if possible looked even harder at him. Not invasively mind you, but in a way that made Eggsy feel like he was the only thing in the world at that moment. He swallowed, shrinking back slightly. The moment passed quickly like a trick of the mind, and Harry pointedly patted Eggsy’s empty pillow.

“I don’t have any lubrication. In my haste to accommodate you I seemed to have planned for everything but that. So we will have to wait in any case.” He lay back down then, throwing an arm over his forehead as he closed his eyes.

Eggsy remained where he was, frowning at Harry’s serene expression. “Oh... d’you want something else then?”

Harry sighed. “An early night, Eggsy.”

Eggsy’s posture slumped and he sighed too, making sure to sound annoyed. “What kinda bloke don’t want something on his wedding day?” he snapped. Should he just straddle Harry? For an older fellow he didn’t look as fragile as one would think, he shouldn’t break. Eggsy could make out a surprising amount of lithe muscle and form beneath his pyjamas. 

Harry sighed again, opening his eyes to level Eggsy with a look that made him feel scolded. 

“One who recognises the notion of rape. And please don’t say ‘but we’re married.’”

Eggsy blushed furiously and folded his arms, looking away like the snotty child he suddenly felt like. “I wasn’t gonna…”

“Good, because you’re smarter than that.”

Tongue in his cheek, eyes wide in disbelieve, Eggsy shrugged rudely, bouncing the bed enough to make it obvious even with Harry’s eyes closed again. “All right. Don’t say I didn’t offer then.”

“A little gratitude would be nice.” Harry drawled, opening his eyes again. Surprisingly his eyes veered straight for the skin of Eggsy’s exposed knees and thighs. “Do you not have pyjamas? I have spare in that drawer right there.”

Equal parts confused and annoyed Eggsy didn’t bother stalling to see if Harry would be interested in touching him or not. He slid off the bed with a roll of his eyes, a little more miserable than he should be considering he was getting a free pass, and dug out the first set of night clothes he found. 

He proceeded without making it a show of it, clenching his jaw as he dropped the robe, standing stark naked as he pulled on Harry’s sleek clothing. Harry said nothing and Eggsy fought with himself to resist finding out if Harry was watching him or not. He knew he had a good body and he wasn’t shy either, but he wished Harry would just _do something_.

Still nothing happened, and Eggsy climbed back into bed. Harry remained in the same position, and Eggsy turned to face away from him, duvet up to his chin. But it wasn’t long before Eggsy’s anger fizzled and he realised just how good it felt to lie down and relax his body.

He was still fine. He was all right. He’d been fed, clothed, washed, and now put to rest in a warm soft bed, all the while with the knowledge that his mother and sister were most probably eating well tonight, even if Dean chose the menu. Yesterday he’d been one foot in jail, the other back on Smith Street, and now here he was married to some posh bloke that could really fucking cook. It wasn’t all bad.

“...Thanks for...everything. Today.” He mumbled after a long while, tense until Harry replied softly.

“Be sure to call your mother in the morning, she looked quite distraught.”

“I will, thanks.” Eggsy said, too tired to bother being surprised by the suggestion. Maybe he ought to call Jamal and Ryan too, let them know he’d be out of reach for a while until he settled down with his... or maybe he’d just wait a few days.

“Goodnight, Eggsy.”

“G’night.”

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you’re on tumblr and like silly screen shot edits, I am the owner of a few because my sanity ran away from me after rewatching Kingsman a billion times. 
> 
>  
> 
> [herrrree](http://candyassgoth.tumblr.com/tagged/myhart)


	3. Love always Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was genuinely surprised no one has used this name yet for a Hartwin fic. Although if someone has and I missed it in my search, kudos to you!
> 
> Also keep in mind while it’s AU it might still have spy elements, as you’re going to notice it plays on the film a lot. And of course I’ll be updating tags as I go.
> 
> Big thank you to all the support! I think we have one of the finest dumpsters in the fandoms, dontcha think?
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

** Chapter 3: Love always Hurts **

Eggsy woke in a startle. 

He jerked and sat up, legs kicking and hands clutching at the unfamiliar fabric beneath him. His breath was immediately ragged, accustomed to the need to be on his feet at a second’s notice. 

What he wasn’t accustomed to was waking up in a bed fit for a king. It took him a minute to recall yesterday’s events, and an extra minute to wonder if he and Harry, his new fucking husband, had had sex or not. 

Harry wasn’t besides him, and his side of the bed was made, ridiculous neat but slightly misplaced thanks to Eggsy’s wake up call. Eggsy relaxed in increments, flopping back into the pillows and trying to remind himself that this was going to be normal now. His old bed was going to be Daisy’s, probably, and it wasn’t half bad. This bed was definitely better in all ways, but that didn’t make it any less alarming to wake up on.

He looked around with small eyes, finally finding a small clock on the wall. It was almost nine o’clock. He hadn’t slept this late in a long time. It must’ve been the early night, hit his sleeping pattern off whack. Harry didn’t seem to have the same problem, but Eggsy was going to have to speak up if it turned out Harry was an early sleeper. He’d never get up in the mornings if this continued.

Right now though, he had to. He couldn’t offend his buyer on the very second day and he was probably already being rude by sleeping in so late. Not that it _really_ bothered him because he already had his excuse, but he did compromise and drag himself out of bed. 

He took a peek out of the window before anything else, squinting through the bright natural light to see the other side of the building, and recognised a few landmarks. He definitely knew where he was, it wasn’t too far from his place if he wanted to walk.

…His _old_ place.

Sighing and rubbing his eyes, Eggsy headed to the bathroom where he trudged through his morning rituals. 

He didn’t look at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, looking around instead at the impossible amount of detail in Harry’s decor. He didn’t think on it, just stared at the shapes and colours until he was freshened up from sleep. He didn’t want to acknowledge anything yet, especially not the day ahead—the days, months, _years_ ahead.

He put away Harry’s borrowed night clothes and redressed himself, throwing on one of his more comfortable outfits without the least bit of concern for how he looked. If Harry wanted sex then he would have to ask this time, Eggsy had done it last night. If he wanted Eggsy to wear something sexier he’d have to ask. He was perfectly capable (and particularly good) at giving instructions anyhow. 

At the last minute he floundered for roll on and/or deodorant. He swore to himself for forgetting his own, but all wasn’t lost when he found some in one of the bathroom cupboards. It was most probably Harry’s so he put on just a little.

On his way downstairs he peeked into Harry’s study and saw that there were a dozen curious newspaper articles stuck meticulously along the walls. Other than that the room was simple and neat besides a desk and a spare armchair. 

For a second Eggsy’s mind ran wild. He imagined himself leaning over the desk with Harry precise and firm behind him, face unreadable. Was Harry a freak in the sheets, or did he have to take Viagra and have his partners ride him so not to hurt his back? Eggsy almost couldn’t decide which he’d prefer, both had their pros and cons. It wasn’t like he _wasn’t_ looking forward to sex (in general), he just really didn’t want it to become something he would dread like everything else in his life.

When he finally wandered downstairs he was ridiculously relieved to catch the smell of yet another wholesome meal. He breathed in deep and followed the scent, trying not to walk too fast as he approached Harry who was back in the kitchen, apron on over his ever neat clothing.

“Morning.” He announced himself as clearly as possible, hands shoved down his pockets.

Harry turned immediately and gave him a smile, one that made Eggsy pause. 

It was…different. A little more relaxed, a little more playful, if Eggsy had to choose a word. It made his heart skip a beat, making him blush furiously and shove down the yearning that Harry Hart was going to be good to him. 

“Good morning, Eggsy. Sleep well?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Very well, thank you. Please help yourself. Tea, coffee?”

Eggsy turned to eye the table, already filled with a small selection. Some was leftovers from yesterday, some new, like the crumpets. He sat down without hesitation and scrunched his nose. “Er, neither.”

Harry was at his side in an instant like an apparition, a glass jug in his hand as if he’d been hiding around a corner waiting with it. 

“Juice?”

“Um...okay y-yeah.” Eggsy stuttered, face going redder. 

This had to stop. He was gonna to have to get make up after all to cover up all his stupid blushing. He felt like a fifteen year old girl at Harry Style’s house rather than a grown man of twenty three at his _buyer_ Harry Hart’s house.

Harry poured him a glass of orange juice, saying nothing if he noticed Eggsy’s face betraying him. Eggsy dished himself up a proper portion this time, and ate with more manners than he remembered exhibiting the day before. If possible he still felt the slightest bit full, or maybe his stomach was just traumatised, like the calm ambience of Harry’s scandalised dining quarter.

After fifteen minutes or so of chewing and drinking, Harry spoke up. 

“So, any questions?” 

Eggsy looked up and squinted, swallowing before opening his mouth. “...Like, for rules or...?”

“The rules of the house are very basic. I am sure I needn’t specify against throwing out something of mine without asking, or inviting questionable strangers in without at least running it by me first.”

“I can have visitors?”

“Of course. A young man like yourself must have friends.”

“Two. But I don’t think I’mma invite ‘em over anytime soon.” Eggsy sipped from his glass, already dreading that conversation. They didn’t even know he had been registered to Kingsman. Well, it couldn’t be worse than the time when his mum found out about him and Smith Street. Nothing could top that mortification. 

“…Can my mum come? Like, later at some point.”

“Certainly. Although I don’t quite care for your step father.”

Eggsy scowled. “He ain’t my step father. He’s just a prick we’re stuck with.”

Harry didn’t answer that like Eggsy thought he would. He just kept looking at him, seemingly about to say something before changing his mind and getting up, patting his mouth clean with a napkin. “...Come with me.” He ordered.

Eggsy stalled only a moment then got up and tagged along, wiping his mouth belatedly with the back of his hand as Harry lead him into the ground floor toilet. But Eggsy jumped back before entering, and stared bewildered at the tiny stuffed dog on the wall.

“Mr. Pickles.” Harry introduced, gesturing to the name plate as if that made it less strange. “Quoting a film, I couldn’t bear to part with him.”

Eggsy edged into the room, raising a brow at Harry. “How’d he die?”

“Pancreatitis. Lived twelve years.”

“So it was just you two then?”

“Just us. Sit.” Harry gestured to the toilet, turning to rummage through a cupboard to the side. Eggsy lowered the lid with a frown but did as he was told, more confused than afraid. He wasn’t getting any silent-killer vibes from Harry that he could tell. The door was still open too.

“I should’ve done this yesterday but you were still quite jumpy. It’s not too bad, in any case.”

Eggsy continued to frown until Harry cupped his jaw with the gentlest of touches, and thumbed over his cheek. Eggsy’s expression smoothed out in understanding and he tried to look away. 

He’d completely forgotten the bruising and he must’ve wiped the concealer away during his shower. Had he been showcasing the marks the whole time? Fucking hell, he was excelling at embarrassing himself.

“Hold still.” Harry murmured, firmly but carefully turning his face back.

Harry’s hand was warm, large and sturdy. Eggsy had enough experience with hands to know he wouldn’t want to get slapped by this pair. There was a kind of attention to detail in the way he moved his fingers too, like he was some kind of piano player.

Eggsy sat still, sitting up straight after a moment when he realised he was slouching horribly, and let Harry tend to his face. 

And it was the weirdest fucking thing he’d ever experienced.

He kept his eyes averted, but he didn’t need to see a thing to feel the heavy wave of pure _attention_. The only sounds were that of Harry fiddling with the medical supplies, opening this, snipping that, applying this. Eggsy was hyper aware of their breathing, trying to keep his own soft and regulated, keeping it at Harry’s pace as he cupped his chin with three fingers and dabbed a swab across his cheek with the other.

It was just so _gentle_. Eggsy had absolutely no fucking idea how to respond. He didn’t think Harry was looking for a response, not yet anyhow, but with his eyes staring into a corner and teeth grit behind his lips he could imagine he wasn’t looking very grateful. There was no pain, that had dulled yesterday already, but the skin was still sensitive and suddenly pronounced as Harry smoothed a cool ointment over it, tapping lightly with his index finger until Eggsy’s face was bright pink. There was _no_ way Harry couldn’t feel that his face was on fire, not with the constant and ridiculously prolonged contact he was initiating.

Then there was the fact that their knees were almost touching. Eggsy hadn’t realised at first but he kept inching them apart in an effort to avoid contact, but that just opened the flood gates and by the time Harry had decided he was done he was snug between Eggsy’s legs and towering over him. It was not a sight Eggsy was used to, not in the least despite what he had dreaded. 

Thugs and goons with sneers and knives and fists yes, but not this. Not Harry Hart, who had his hair combed back neatly, glasses on his nose, dressed to the nines like a well-to-do gentleman, tending to a bruise on Eggsy like he cared, like the domesticity displayed here was something he was enjoying providing. Like he was actually the man he was presenting himself to be.

It would be so easy to just trail his fingers that bit lower and into Eggsy’s mouth, part his lips and order him to keep them open. Eggsy had grown used to looking up at a man, at level with his waist, balancing himself on his thighs when things got rough. Was Harry rough, or gentle? Sex was a far cry from mending a bruise, but Eggsy found himself morbidly curious anyway without his self-preservation screaming at him. 

When Harry finally stepped away, taking his warm dependable fingers with him, Eggsy caught himself before he could lean after him, and blinked away the dazed he had slowly fallen into. He could’ve drifted asleep right there, full and warm and being tended to.

“All done. That should clear it up.” Harry said as he put away the supplies and then washed his hands off. Eggsy got up and glanced into the mirror wearily, and he was glad to see the marks weren’t nearly as bad as he thought they were. They would definitely be gone entirely in another day or so, Harry’s attention hadn’t been necessary, but neither was he about to complain. All his mum had done was cover it up with cheap corner store make up that would suffocate the healing process rather than aid it.

He shook the thoughts away; not her fault.

“Thanks.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked, standing behind Eggsy and engaging him in eye contact through the mirror.

Eggsy forced down a shiver at having him so close to his back, but proudly held his ground without giving himself away. “Nah. Not really.”

“All right.” Harry said easily, and gave him a single pat on the shoulder before heading out back to the kitchen.

The second he was sure Harry had gone far enough Eggsy grabbed his shoulder and tried to rub the phantom touch away, glancing back at his tingling cheek bone. He could still feel Harry’s fingers dancing across his cheek, dipping into his chin and jaw line. Maybe Harry was a painter, he had enough paintings around as it was. And more butterflies, Eggsy realised as he gawked around the bathroom, finding twice as many filled frames down here.

Used to being treated as a felon Eggsy followed after Harry before he was called. He didn’t want Harry to think he was damaging anything of his. Harry was cleaning up, and Eggsy watched him waltz about like a professional waiter until all the evidence of breakfast had disappeared, and he was washing the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Why butterflies?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Harry looked back with a flicker of amusement. “Is there something wrong with them?”

“No. Just...asking a question.”

Harry took a deep breath through the nose, and exhaled in the same manner as he looked off in thought, pausing for a moment. 

“I just like them. They’re one of nature’s more collectable arts. And, they remind me that there is still an unlimited amount of beauty in our fragile, dark world. Not all is lost, although not everyone stops to appreciate the fact... Is that strange enough for you?”

Clueless as to what to say to that Eggsy frowned and shrugged, hands back in his pockets as he stood trying not to look like a loitering delinquent in Harry’s house. 

“So...what d’ya do for a living?”

“I’m on leave at the moment.”

“That ain’t an answer.”

“I’m glad to see you still have spunk.”

Eggsy snorted, half at the term and half at the statement, and drew his arms up to fold them across his puffed out chest, chin back. “ _Still_? What, have you been watchin’ me or something?”

“Or something.” Harry said with a cheeky one-sided smile, wiping his hands with a dish towel.

Eggsy shrugged dramatically, looking around for emphasis. “So why _me_ then? Besides my picture?”

Instead of some snarky answer, Harry gave him a light frown and approached him. He seemed to give it some thought before opening his mouth—his lips looked as firm as the rest of him—and slipped his hands into his pockets.

Eggsy dropped his hands and readied himself by habit, but Harry stopped two steps away.

“I saw a young man with potential.”

The first bout of annoyance washed through Eggsy for the day and he deepened his scowl. “For what? Giving head?”

Harry didn’t rise to the bait, raising a simple brow. “Among other things. Nobler things. Although I see you’re particularly good at keeping your mouth _shut_. You were very nearly sent to prison on your recent hitch.”

“I would’a gone whether I grassed ‘em up or not. They’re my friends. It was my fault anyway.”

“Stole a car.” This time Harry looked down his nose at him, very much the image of a father-figure that Eggsy had never known. An abusive one sure, but not one that cared enough to _scold_ him. God he felt six again, and he wasn’t sure if he hated it or secretly enjoyed it.

“I just borrowed it.” he spat petulantly. “Weren’t like I was gonna sell it or nothin’. I know the guy, one of Dean’s goons.”

“Then why would you provoke them?”

“They started it. A man can only take so much.”

“I saw the traffic takes. You’re an excellent driver.” Harry said suddenly, almost making Eggsy’s head spin.

“Th-Thanks—?”

“Of course you could have killed a lot of people with one slip. That was very irresponsible of you.”

Eggsy scoffed, a tight defensive smile springing up. “You can’t—then why the fuck’d you choose me? To scold me like some little kid?”

The effect of his snarling was severely dampened as Harry stepped into his personal space before he could defend himself, looking down at him to speak softly enough that his voice didn’t leave the room, but was still crystal clear. And for some reason it was more terrifying than hearing Dean’s voice barking from across the street. 

“…I chose you, Eggsy, because you possessed the most character. The most spirit and the most intrigue, even if has wandered in all the wrong directions. I chose you for a great many other reasons.”

“You like a little trouble then?” Eggsy breathed, licking his dry lips when Harry eased off a step.

“I didn’t say that, but I’ve no interest in a submissive partner.”

Eggsy blinked, brows locking. “...So you want me to wear the pants?”

Harry rolled his eyes, sighing with a clear hint of amusement, and Eggsy almost laughed at the sight. Only Jamal and Ryan ever appreciated at his attempts at being dense for the sake of humour and easing the tension.

“No, Eggsy. Just be yourself. With less car chases, perhaps.”

Eggsy shrugged, already having figured that out when he signed his life away. Or, at least the latter. “I’ll miss the adrenaline rush.” 

Harry smiled. “That is a start, I suppose.”

Then something clicked as he thought back to the whole car ordeal, staring at his mum’s teary face when they came to get him at the police station.

“Oh shit.”

“What?”

“I forgot—can I call my mum?”

“Of course, which reminds me,” Harry turned and opened a drawer on a cabinet, and pulled out a sleek back phone. He handed it over, and Eggsy took it gingerly, feeling much like his mum had when Harry had offered her the papers back at the agency. “Try not to lose it, privacy reasons.”

“Thanks. Thank you.” Eggsy got out, successfully; all the while his mind was screaming _holy shit_. He’d never gotten to steal a phone this nice before and get to keep it. Now he finally had one, and he hadn’t had to Parkour three blocks for it. 

Harry nodded and walked out, giving him privacy. 

Eggsy sat back down at the table and thumbed through the device, making a mental note to find out later if Harry had good WIFI and download a shitload of useless apps to play with. He keyed in his mum’s number, and held the phone to his ear with bated breath.

She answered cautiously after the third ring.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Hey mum, it’s me Eggsy.”

She made a loud noise on the other side, startling him that he hit his knee on the table edge. “ _Eggsy! Baby! Are you all right_?”

“Yeah mum, I’m fine. Um, this is my new phone so keep the number. Y’know, in case you need to call me directly for anything.”

“ _Baby are you okay?_ ” she asked, obvious in her concerns. 

Despite everything it made him warm inside and he smiled. “...Yeah, I promise. Nothing happened,” He lowered his voice, kicking at the leg of the table. “he was...a gentleman.”

She sighed loudly into the receiver. “ _Thank goodness, I was so worried. He’s been good to you? You promise?_ ”

“Yeah, mum. I was expecting...different. But I’m plenty all right. And you? Daisy?”

“ _We’re fine, Eggsy._ ”

That was a blatant lie and they both knew it. They’d never be all right while Dean was still around. And once more he felt the crushing failure of not being able to help them. Suddenly that money seemed like nothing at all, not when Dean was in charge.

“...All right. Was just checkin’ in. I gotta go now, mum.” 

“ _Call soon, yeah?_ ”

“I will. Love you.”

“ _Love you too, babe._ ”

Head hung and chest tight, Eggsy ended the call and slipped his phone away in his jeans without another glance. He sighed into the empty room, suddenly feeling cold. He got to his feet and pushed the chair back in and wandered out quietly. He found Harry in the sitting room, reclined and legs crossed in an armchair, sipping what might be whiskey or scotch.

“Would you care for a tot?” Harry offered.

“Nah.”

“Is she well?

“Yeah, she’s good.” He sniffed, and threw himself on the nearest seat, slouching the way his mum had always scolded him for. The chair was surprisingly snug and he squirmed back, letting it envelope him. 

He could feel Harry’s eyes on him, so he smoothed out his face and looked up, meeting Harry’s gaze confidently and let his mouth run. 

“So what made ya wanna get hitched? You don’t, you know, strike me as the kind. Was you ever married before?”

“I’ve never been married. But I haven’t any family either and I am not getting any younger. Merlin’s been on my case for a few years now that I should settle down with someone, but I don’t think I could quite accommodate a traditional wife. I’d need someone adaptable. Someone loyal. Someone I can...share myself with, and he in return.”

Eggsy nodded, taking in the words (and the mention of Merlin), and tilted his head to offer his own. “So you’re completely bent?”

Harry exhaled through his nose, raising amused brows. “Are you not?”

“Bi, actually.” Eggsy admitted, caring not one bit if Harry called him out on lying on the application. That was Dean’s doing anyway. “It’s a waste not to be, don’t ya think?”

“True.” Harry sipped his drink, watching Eggsy over the rim.

Eggsy waited at first, but when Harry remained silent he opened his mouth again, waving a knee. “...I ain’t never did a girl, if you wondering.”

“I wasn’t, but I appreciate the honesty.”

Eggsy waited again, leaning his head forward. “...You ’ain’t gonna ask why?”

“That is none of my business. But if you wish to share it, then by all means.”

That stumped Eggsy when he realised he had no solid answer. He blinked under Harry’s attentive stare, then shrugged more to himself than Harry 

“Nothing much to tell, I guess... Just never happened.” He glanced at his nails, remembering the girls in secondary school he had hidden in corners with, hands in their panties and tongue down their throats, but that’s about as far as it got. His first climax with another person was with a guy who really knew how to use his hands. Those had been easier days...

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Harry hummed, putting his glass down. How could someone look so formal yet so at ease?

“’M not. It was my choice.” Eggsy said, lips pouted on the board side of stubborn.

“As this will be.” Harry said, and Eggsy caught onto the change in atmosphere immediately. He let Harry steal his gaze and tried his best to decipher what was lounging in Harry’s eyes as Harry looked at him, implications all over his face.

Two could play at that game if Harry wanted to go there. “...And last night didn’t count because...?”

“When you learn to tell the difference, you’ll be ready to choose.”

“Are you for real or taking the piss?”

“So, gymnastics.”

Eggsy sighed loudly, rolling his eyes back and holding them for a moment before lolling his head back to Harry with a shit-eating grin, screwing up his brows in a suggestive but completely comical manner.

“That was a long time ago, bruv. I can’t promise I’m still that flexible.”

He was rewarded with watching Harry blush, turning his face away with a controlled smile and slight shake of his head. “Good Lord…”

Eggsy laughed, pushing his legs out in front of him and waving the tips of his shoes idly. “What? You ain’t a prude, are you?”

Harry rolled his head back at him with a raised brow and quirk of the lips. “Not in the least. But I am a gentleman.”

“And we’re married.” As soon as the words slipped out Eggsy sobered, remembering last night. 

Harry noticed and sighed, blinking benevolently. “...Not quite.”

And fuck, if that wasn’t the first gut punch of the day. The depression from talking to his mum sunk right back into his shoulders and he slumped further, his cheek suddenly feeling assaulted rather than tended.

“Oh. Yeah, right. More like a business deal, yeah? I’m like a new appliance.”

“That’s not what I meant. But it’s another thing you’ll choose when you understand.”

Eggsy frowned as pointedly and deeply as he could, but Harry moved on.

“How about the Marines? Care to share?”

“Ain’t nothing to tell, all right?” Eggsy grunted as he sat up, sitting on the edge of the seat.

“You were doing brilliantly, then you gave up.” Harry said, making Eggsy’s heart skip an ugly beat.

“Don’t you judge me. I had my reasons, all right? Mum got pregnant, went completely mental thinking she was gonna lose me, just like my dad. I had to go home and help her. Dean fucking wasn’t. What else was I suppose’a do? Just leave her there all alone? Let ‘er beg Dean for every little thing?”

“I wouldn’t think so, no.”

“Yeah. I could’a been someone today if Dean hadn’t fucked up everything, all right? I ain’t useless.”

“I never said you were, darling.”

Gut punch number two, only for an entirely different reason. Eggsy’s entire body flushed and he straightened, his hands falling to clutch at the seat compressed beneath his bum. But the moment passed quickly; for Harry, that is.

“Like I said, I saw a multitude of potential. That is really the complete opposite of useless.” Harry said, head tilted just so, looking suddenly utterly devious. “What do you do to stay in shape? I’ve a gym membership, would you like one?”

Eggsy stared, heart racing away in his shirt as though this was an ordinary new marriage, one where Harry had gone down on one knee and proposed, charm and all. “Yeah, all right.” He said, nodding in case his voice didn’t make it across.

“Good. There is a pad on the fridge, write some of your favourite meals down whenever you get around to it and we’ll have them for dinner during the week.”

“I’m easy.” Eggsy mumbled, pushing himself back on the seat to lean against the backrest.

Harry shrugged a hand. “If something comes to mind.”

“…Does take out count?”

“Sure.”

 

XxXxXxXxXx

 

Eggsy spent the rest of the day alone, and he was grateful for the time to let his mind and heart play catch-up. 

Harry excused him to take a phone call which lasted a few minutes in the hallway, then announced he’d be upstairs in his study for a while, which turned out to be the rest of the day. But with a fulfilling late breakfast Eggsy didn’t need to seek him out again, and lounged about on the couches and abused Harry’s WIFI, which he had enough off. “ _Yes, Eggsy, I do._ ” Harry said his name an awful lot, but it was better than _darling_ which very nearly set him on fire. And why? He had no fucking clue.

Twice he had to right himself, getting a shock when he realised his shoes were digging into Harry’s plush seating. He didn’t leave any marks, thank god, but it still had him feeling like a cheap hooker left to sully a prince’s chamber. 

Harry was extremely neat and organised, from his home to his appearance to the way he stacked the crumpets, and here was Eggsy lying on the couch like a drunken French girl, one leg over the backrest, the other sprawled out on the floor. He was genuinely surprised Harry hadn’t scolded him for his posture yet, and he was sure he did plenty ratty things even when he tried to show manners.

In fact, he was surprised about a lot of things. He wasn’t nearly as miserable as he thought he’d be. Harry was nothing like what he imagined. He was kind, so far, guarded and reserved, but kind and thoughtful. Eggsy hadn’t felt as pampered as he did today in his whole life, and he was pretty sure Harry hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t do for someone else. All he’d done was fed him and helped him out with a tiny injury, and spoke to him like he was an actual person; nothing over the top there, Eggsy knew. 

But despite that, he still couldn’t stop his face from heating and his stomach from fluttering. Well, there were the couple times he was sure Harry had sort of flirted, in his posh proper way, but Eggsy was sure he shouldn’t be getting butterflies over nothing— _oh god more butterflies, was it some kind of inside joke?_

The day alone (save for a visit to Mr. Pickles’ domain) passed quickly, and by the time it was just gone four and Harry reappeared Eggsy still hasn’t sorted out his feelings. All Harry had to do was step into the archway and Eggsy looked up like a magnet to its other half, flushing to the roots of his hair and feeling insanely exposed. _Fuck he was a damaged bastard_ , he hadn’t realised just how much until today.

“All right there, Eggsy?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m good.” He nodded, closing the laptop to offer Harry his attention. He hadn’t been doing anything, he’d ended up on a page of cute dogs.

“Decided what you’d like for supper?”

Shit, he’d forgotten.

“Um. No. But anything is fine. Still thinking about it.”

“Would you prefer take out?”

“Only if you don’t feel like cooking.”

“Pizza?”

“Pizza’s good.”

“Good.”

And that was that. Or, it was until Harry called him to the phone to choose toppings, speaking into the phone like he knew the person personally. In the end they settled for four small pizzas, each with a different topping so they had a bit of everything. Eggsy was particularly eager on the idea once his simmering shyness around Harry ebbed away after hanging around him as he ordered; he hadn’t had pizza in what could be a year. 

When Harry hung up the phone Eggsy stepped back a little and tried to assume a casual stance, and definitely not stare at Harry’s hands.

“So um,” he started with absolutely no idea of how to follow up.

“Personalise your phone yet?”

“What? Oh. Um, no. I was er, on the laptop.”

“Surprising. Young people are quite dedicated when it comes to customising their phones. I would’ve thought you’d have taken a few Selfies by now.”

Eggsy laughed at Harry saying _Selfies_ , and pulled out his phone with a nod. “No yeah, y’right. I just forgot.”

“Do you want me to take a picture of you? Or does it really take hours in a bathroom like I’ve heard?”

Harry was smiling, a teasing angle to his face but Eggsy was stuck. 

Just the idea of Harry taking a picture of him felt infinitely more intimate than being groped, but he could not spot the perverted edge on Harry’s face no matter how much he squinted. Either Harry was just offering a hand, or he had perfected the art of lying in his what, fourty-fifty years? He needed to find out how old he was.

“Sure.” Eggsy said, blinking away the pause and plastering a stupid grin on his face as he stepped back and pulled a _I’m-definitely-not-mature-yet_ pose, hands out as if he were a terrible Eminem impersonator.

As expected Harry made a half-hearted exasperated sound with a crooked smile, but lifted the device anyway.

“Model material, you are.” He teased, looking over the phone once the mechanical _chk_ went off.

“I’m electric.” Eggsy said dramatically, pulling a peace sign and tilting his head back, expression as thug as thug could get. He wished he had his cap on, no wonder he’d been feeling exposed, but he already knew wearing it inside Harry’s house would be pointed out as rude. He knew that much about snobs at least.

“Perhaps a normal one to send to your mother?”

Eggsy paused, tongue in his cheek and arms arranged awkwardly.

“Unless she would prefer these kind of poses when wanting to see you.”

Eggsy straightened completely, nodding in agreement at the common sense.

Harry smiled. “Just one, then you can pose all you want.”

“Yeah, want to direct me?” Eggsy said, with just a slight hint of suggestion as he folded his hands in front of him, trying to look normal and all right and something his mum could look at and be comforted.

Harry snapped a picture after adjusting the angle, then passed the phone over. Eggsy took it, grateful that this time their fingers didn’t touch, and approved the image with a nod. Then he promptly shoved the phone back and sniffed.

“So, pose?”

Harry regarded him coolly. “You were boarding on Lady Gaga, if you want to keep going.”

A wiggle of tension eased in Eggsy’s chest at the joke, and he dropped his guard a little, willing to play the game if it meant finding out where he stood with Harry. _The calm before the storm_ was a terrible phrase in Eggsy’s opinion. The wait during the calm was fucking torture.

“Miley Cyrus is more of a fashion statement these days.”

“Are you talking about the tongue—”

“I’m talking about the tongue.”

“If it pleases you.” Harry said with a lazy acceptance about it as he lifted the phone again.

Eggsy didn’t move except to slightly raise a finger and point. “If it pleases _you_.”

“Miley Cyrus’ tongue would be the last thing to please me.”

Eggsy knew Harry had realised he’d cornered himself when his eyes widened minutely and his brows furrowed, most definitely about to correct his choice of words but Eggsy dived right in before he could lose the upper hand.

“Then whose tongue will please you?” he asked, biting back a grin that was equal parts nervous and amused. “Mine?” he asked as directly as he could, proud of the firm eye contact and minimal shaking of his hands.

_Knock knock_

“Pizza.” Harry announced, handing Eggsy back his phone and walking off as though Eggsy wasn’t just sporting his most salacious expression. Eggsy stared into the spot he vacated with a deepening frown, one that sunk into a scowl as he sighed and pocketed the phone, trailing after the pizza. The delicious pizza. Definitely not Harry.

“Get us glasses, won’t you?” Harry asked as Eggsy followed him to the lounge, balancing the four boxes as he moved the laptop off the coffee table. Eggsy turned in mid-step and wandered back to the dining area, seeking out two of the less fancy looking ones and carried them back. Harry had the pizzas open and waiting, standing with a bottle of coke. 

“Thank you, dear.” Harry said, and just like that took away every proud ounce of confidence Eggsy had built up, with just that one word, that one small endearment. 

Eggsy was unbelievable relieved when Harry took each glass and filled them one at a time, as if he knew exactly what he had done and wasn’t prepared to have coke stains on his carpet.

“Help yourself.” Harry said, seating himself down on the two-seater, leaving the space besides him pointedly empty.

Eggsy sat himself down gingerly, rubbing his hands on his thighs before taking his first slice, something full of meat. Only once he stuffed an edge into his mouth did Harry reach out for his own, and Eggsy almost felt suffocated in the weirdest way at the implication.

His anxiety remained his own and Harry didn’t seem to notice (or if he did, he didn’t comment), and they ate in silence.

The food was good, Eggsy couldn’t deny it his full appreciation even with Harry relaxing besides him. And it was here in record time too—maybe he was a great tipper, or a valued customer of some kind, or important in some way that Eggsy wouldn’t know, what with his days consisting of little other than cruising the streets. By the time he was stuffed to the brim he was licking his fingers, wiping at his mouth with oily fingers until a white napkin appeared in his face.

He looked Harry, who looked nothing but his usual brand of laid back. Nothing judgemental or cruel or mean.

“If you need it.” Harry amended.

“Thanks.” Eggsy took it, wiping his mouth down then his fingers. “That was good, thanks.” He added before burping softly into his hand. 

“My pleasure, Eggsy...”

Eggsy went white, and felt a cold rush through his stomach as something hit him a second later. He had been waiting for another endearment, he realised in big bold letters. _Fuck_ …

“Excuse me?” 

Eggsy jumped. “Wha’?”

“Eggsy you’re as white as a sheet, what’s the matter?” Harry sat up, suddenly all concerns. 

Eggsy flapped a hand and leaned away from their increase in proximity, his dinner threatening to rise as his abdomen clenched. Harry lowered his rising hand and sat back, thank god, but he had the funniest look on his face and Eggsy wanted to take a picture of _that._

“’M fine.” He burbled, sitting forward and keeping as still as possible, pushing the waist of his jeans down to ease the pressure of his slightly distended stomach.

“I don’t think it was the food,” Harry said dubiously, taking a weirdly intricate look at the nearly empty boxes.

“I’m fine, Harry.” Eggsy reassured, looking back to confirm it, and found a look of open surprise on Harry’s face. “…What?”

Harry looked between his eyes, brows knitting lightly, mouth twitching upward in increments until he shook his head. “Sit back. I’ll get you an Eno.” He got up and stepped around the table, strutting out of the room. Eggsy shrugged, feeling too bloated to worry about the cause of the moment and rested back slowly.

“We’re going to have to take you to a doctor about this. How long as your stomach been giving you problems?” Harry asked as he came back with a glass of water and the medicine. Eggsy sat up to take it.

“I never realised there was a problem.” He mumbled, “I don’t think it’s anything. Prolly just eating too fast ‘n too much.” 

“Mmh.” Harry didn’t look pacified in the least, and started cleaning up.

“Can I help?” Eggsy asked.

“Let the medicine work first.”

Eggsy took the hint and lay crudely into the chair as Harry cleaned up, taking his time like it was a joy. The Eno did the trick and he took a few deep stabilising breathes, but now he was concerned whether he _did_ have a medical problem or not. He really hoped it was just nerves, being put on some medical diet or life-long pill would suck arse...

“Do you want to bath first or go after me?” Harry asked, startling Eggsy just as he was about to doze off.

“Uh, anything...”

Harry regarded him with a tilt of his head, then stepped forward once and held his hand out.

“You first then, then straight to bed.”

“’M’kay.” Eggsy mumbled, and held out his hand before realising what he was doing. Harry took his hand and pulled him up, his strength considerable and surprising and _god Eggsy was curious of its limits_. His hand was still firm and warm, releasing Eggsy’s once he was one his feet, but moving to a public spot on his back as he lead him upstairs, so close that Eggsy could feel his body warmth, and smell his cologne.

Suddenly tired beyond belief Eggsy used it as an excuse to soak up Harry’s warmth a little more than was necessary, enjoying the fingers on his back as they guided him up the stairs. He’d blame his sleepy mind in the morning for wanting to feel more, a natural instinct when someone was tired, right? He hadn’t been cuddled in what, almost one and a half decades?

“No, Eggsy, to the shower.” Harry’s voice broke through his state, both hands firm on his shoulders now. Eggsy cracked open his eyes and moaned seeing the bed, having felt it against his knees as he shambled past. But seeing the bed was the end of him and he slumped.

“Tired.” He offered as an excuse, head lolling back.

 _He shouldn’t be letting himself go so much. Always watch your back…_ a little voice reminded. It was dangerous, it was stupid, it was everything he’d learnt not to be as he grew into a man.

_But was it really? Was Harry, calm-voiced and apron-wearing Harry going to hurt him out of the blue? Just like that? After fixing his face? Suppose he could take a little advantage what with Eggsy nearly asleep on his feet, but where was the harm if he would be as gentle as he was in everything else? There were worse things, Eggsy knew worse…_

“Eggsy.” Harry sighed, but Eggsy was adamant. He dropped forward face-first into the bed and groaned loudly, every nick and knot unravelling in his body. He hadn’t realised how tense he’d been, he had thought the day was rather relaxing compared to the first.

Harry sighed somewhere behind him, but Eggsy couldn’t give a fuck, and he smiled lazily in success when he heard a resigned _fine_ from his husband. _Oh god he was married, how wild was this._

He must’ve been giggling louder than he meant to because Harry paused in pulling his shoes off.

“Eggsy?”

“I fink ‘m drunk.” Eggsy slurred, feeling like a whale that washed up on shore.

“I can assure you with every confident conviction that you are not.” Harry said, a little too serious for Eggsy’s taste as he peeled off his socks, leaving his legs hanging off the bed.

“Tired…” Eggsy mumbled again, giving up on trying to open his eyes.

“You’re not sleeping in jeans.” He heard Harry say, voice still tight.

“‘Thhnn take ‘em off…” he said, lifting his left foot in his offer of help, though it wouldn’t be the first time in slept in them.

Harry sighed once more, making Eggsy giggle again, but with another huge offer of effort Eggsy stuck his hands beneath him and fumbled with the zipper and button to his jeans. He got them open, then collapsed back down with a breathy “ _There_ ”, his side done.

“You are most helpful.” Harry said sarcastically, but latched onto his clothing at the knees and started tugging. Eggsy wriggled to help, trying to remember what underwear he’d had on. 

His jeans were off in a flash, and suddenly Harry was besides him, leaning over judging by the direct of his voice.

“Your shirt, Eggsy.”

“Uuugh.”

“Come now, just a little more, darling.”

Eggsy shuddered, double so when his delayed senses brought to his attention that Harry’s breath was wafting over his ear. This gave him more than enough strength to crack open his eyes, and push on to twist his neck and look up into Harry’s dark eyes. He had nothing to say though, and visually willed Harry to either leave him be, or say that word again as he kept undressing him, to which ends he wasn’t sure. He was too tired to think further than warmth and softness and sleep.

“Roll over for me.” Harry instructed, oh so softly.

Eggsy did so without thought, finally feeling the cool night’s air on his legs as he lay on his back. When did it get dark? All he could recall was _Harry_.

“There we go.” Harry continued patiently, placing his two capable hands on either side of Eggsy’s waist, and that was the third gut punch of the day. 

Eggsy gasped, stomach sore and full, but Harry didn’t press, he just held, letting his heat seep right through the fabric. 

Eggsy’s breathing started picking up and he tensed, aware of every inch of Harry that was in contact with his stomach. Eggsy was so open, so vulnerable, Harry could hurt him _so_ much right now. A sickening part of Eggsy wanted it, just so he could have something real to latch onto and use as the foundation of his new life. He didn’t know how to do this, any of this. He was a pleb, not a posh housewife.

Then Harry slid his hands up, taking the fabric of Eggsy’s shirt with him. Eggsy let him, watching through small eyes, watching every corner of Harry’s face until his chest was cold, and Harry was rearranging his arms.

“Lift.” Harry said, cupping Eggsy’s neck and lifting him anyway. Eggsy squirmed to do as requested, putting a little more effort into getting the shirt off. Once it was over his head, having stolen precious moments of eye contact from him, Eggsy dropped back and let Harry pull it off the rest of the way. His eyes threatened to fall and he blinked, fighting to watch Harry pull the covers from around him and drop them over his limp body.

And then Harry was gone, leaving a huge void of cool air and open space. Eggsy stared up at the ceiling with a weak frown, his lethargy pushed back a little, making room for concerns again. He listened to Harry putting his clothes away, then squinted as Harry flicked on the en suite light.

“I’ll be in here. If you need something, just call.”

Eggsy eyes closed in motion with the door.

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx


	4. Daddy isn’t Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and fixed some errors, apologies for those.
> 
> As always thank you for your words and support!

** Chapter 4: Daddy isn’t Dad **

For the second morning Eggsy woke up alone, less frazzled but still very much alone. 

When he had first signed up at Kingsman and spent countless nights having nightmares about them knocking down his door, he had really come to expect a future waking up in the mornings stuck underneath his buyer’s arm. Maybe with his nose in his armpit, unable to move, feeling used and abused. Or if he was luckier trapped in a tight sleep-induced cuddle with a creepy and handsy but harmless man. But waking up alone? He was beginning to think he had bad morning breath. 

He checked the clock first; it was quarter to eight. How early did Harry get up?

_Harry._

Eggsy looked at Harry’s side and found it made and neat, but he stared, remembering his embarrassing stunt last night. What the fuck had come over him? Okay he hadn’t been that full with junk food in a while and yeah he was kinda stressed, but he had never gotten so tired that his self preservation flew out the window. He could have been done in for. Harry could’ve done anything to him, with one hand too. 

But he didn’t. 

Harry had tucked him in and went on with his own business. What kind of bloke was he, Prince Charming? He couldn’t have gone through all that without doing _something_. Something other than that one caress from his stomach to his chest, and the little...sweet words...

Eggsy fumbled out of bed, taking his time to enjoy the softness now that the bed felt a little more friend than foe, and got to work on getting ready for the mysterious day ahead. 

He got in the shower and cleaned up, smiling over how Harry had let him sleep rather than forcing him into the shower last night. Although if he had, Eggsy wasn’t sure if he would have been able to undress and wash himself in the first place, let alone dry off and redress. ...Well, that kind of explained it, though it didn’t explain Harry’s bizarre restraint, and _being a gentleman_ just didn’t seem like a good enough excuse to Eggsy. Had to be something else like performance issues, or weird-knob-syndrome, he had no fucking clue.

He made sure to look in the mirror this time as he brushed his teeth. The bruises had faded dramatically, he could barely notice them. But how long would it be until he had new ones?

The mirror offered no answer so he dropped the thought, kicking on a new outfit, cap and some cologne and headed downstairs with far more confidence than the day before, ignoring the light phantom touch of Harry’s fingers against his sides. He focused on his surroundings instead; he rather liked Harry’s small home. It made things seem less daunting, less threatening; less corners to be pushed into. Especially when it was full of colourful butterflies.

“Morning.” He chirped as he entered into the dining room and leaned his arms on the backrest of a chair.

Harry smiled over his shoulder from the kitchenette, only just beginning breakfast. “Good morning, Eggsy. Sleep well?”

“Yeah, not bad. You?”

“Quite well.”

Eggsy smiled sheepishly, pretending he wasn’t suddenly trying not to blush as those phantom fingers dug a little harder. 

“Sorry for being a prat. Last night.”

“Apology accepted.” 

That seemed to be that, so Eggsy seated himself in his usual chair and pulled out his phone, heading straight for the apps. He offered his assistance but Harry declined, so Eggsy sat and played Candy Crush until breakfast was served and Harry joined him.

Today was fluffy pancakes, complete with syrup and cinnamon. And holy shit did it smell delicious. Eggsy tucked in without hesitation, eating the first one in three bites right off the plate.

Harry cut his own into pieces. “So, I thought today we could engage in some activities. Outside the house, I mean. The gym, for example.”

Eggsy gave a hearty shrug. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“Then I thought we’d take you to a physician.”

Eggsy stopped mid-bite, swallowing quickly before shaking his head. “What? No, I’m all right. I swear.”

“It’s not surgery, Eggsy. It’s just a check up.”

“I’d really rather not. Please? I’m honestly fine. I was jus’ being a pig.” Anything to avoid the doctor, he hated the whole thing. 

Harry pursed his lips, but eventually sighed in defeat. “Will you tell me if something feels wrong?”

“I swear.” Eggsy promised, and again that was that.

“All right. Do you have any gym clothes?”

“Nothing specific.”

“We’ll get you some then. And I think we’ll do some shopping afterwards then. A few new outfits perhaps.”

Well, Eggsy wasn’t going to turn that down; he didn’t _want_ to trot around with Harry just to advertise to everyone their class differences. Eggsy chewed thoughtfully, looking at Harry’s white shirt and suspenders. “What kinda outfits? Like yours?”

“Maybe one or two. You’ll need a suit should we attend a formal gathering.”

Eggsy snorted softly. The most formal thing he’d ever attended was his high school graduation. Or signing up at Kingsman, now that he thought of it. 

“I don’t know if a suit would suit me.”

A sneaky look appeared on Harry’s face, enough to make Eggsy pause in his eating and watch as Harry looked him over in return. 

“I think it would.” Harry said after a thoughtful hum, and then gave Eggsy a downright mischievous smile as he lifted his tea to his lips, eyes twinkling with mirth. Eggsy couldn’t help smiling, brows scrunched in confusion, but he didn’t try for any explanations and instead polished off breakfast while fighting off the heating of his face. There was a chance he was going to get fat if they were really going to eat each day like this; gym was a good idea.

 

“Come on then, time to go.” Harry said once he’d cleaned up, slipping on his jacket and grabbing a small gym bag from the wardrobe. He looked like he was going into an office, the presence of the bag didn’t help, and Eggsy hovered in the door way, tugging at the collar of his favourite Yoki jacket.

“Must I change...?”

“No, we’ll buy you your tracksuit at the gym. You can change there.”

It was only then that Eggsy realised he was going to see Harry Hart in something other than his suits and pyjamas in the dark of night. Although the idea of Harry working out in his suit didn’t sound all that mental. Funny, but believable.

Five minutes later and Harry was opening the Kingsman taxi door for him, taking unnecessary care to make sure Eggsy’s feet were safe before closing it. Eggsy just sucked his lips back, shaking his head at the onslaught of blushing and tried to keep his face out of view from the driver, peeking at Harry as he slid in.

“D’ya work for Kingsman or something?”

“It’s a benefit of doing business with them.” 

Not very explanatory, but a simple answer he could accept. 

The ride to the gym wasn’t long at all. They could have walked seeing as it was a nice sunny day. It was in the posh shopping district, and Eggsy’s eyes were wide. He looked both ways trying to see every store available. He had never come here before, there were always policemen around patrolling to keep the rich ladies safe as they carted their shopping bags from store to store. And lo and behold if the streets weren’t busy already, business in full swing.

Their gym was situated next to a café that smelt divine and Eggsy wondered what he’d have to do to get Harry to take him there. He wasn’t even much of a warm beverage guy, but something smelt like a sinful love child of chocolate and cappuccino and he needed it.

Harry led the way into the misleading complex, the interior that of an Italian restaurant or a sort of antique shop until they got upstairs and met a double glass door that boasted the activity behind it. Harry entered the gym first and held the door open, giving Eggsy a small cheeky smile that made Eggsy want to blush all over again and knock his fist to his forehead for it.

He followed along, feeling just a bit out of place as a few people here and there gave them a quick glance. His clothes immediately felt heavy, labelling him to his status even if they didn’t know him. But fuck them; he thought he dressed just fine, his jacket alone cost an arm and a leg. They wore expensive suits, silk and cashmere, and he wore expensive Adidas.

They went up to the reception desk where a young woman stood, around Eggsy’s age, hair dark blond and tied back. 

“Miss Morton.” Harry greeted. 

She spun around and smiled at them. “Mr. Hart, good morning!”

“I need to purchase a complete training set for my husband.” Harry said, making Eggsy flinch and flush all at once, double so when Miss Morton reacted.

The girl gasped, going rigid. “Oh my god.”

Harry turned, placing a hand on Eggsy’s arm, and smiled that mischievous smile again. “Eggsy meet Roxy. She runs this gym. Roxy, this is Eggsy.”

She was around the counter faster than Eggsy could follow, holding out her hand with an enthusiasm that actually eased his anxiety. “Fantastic to meet you! _Eggsy_?”

Eggsy laughed. “Yeah. And you.” He shook her hand, grinning at the genuine excitement in her eyes as she looked between them. 

All right, this was good then, yeah? Very good. If this girl was so at ease with Harry then he should be too, right? She was practically beaming, and Eggsy felt the weirdest relief to realise it had only intensified when she heard they were married. He didn’t need competition, did he? He could barely understand why he had been picked in the first place. But yeah the reaction from Roxy was kind of reassuring that Harry wasn’t some dick, unless Harry hid it behind closed doors. And well, Eggsy had yet to find it at his home.

“This is—wait, for how long now? Merlin hasn’t said a thing.” Roxy squinted.

“We’re only on the second day.” Harry said, amused when it didn’t placate her.

“He could’ve said something. It’s not like I would’ve shown up with a gift basket to interrupt your honeymoon.”

“That is exactly what you would have done.” Harry said, seemingly unaffected by the mention of a honeymoon. Eggsy however went red, replaying their first night together in his head, where he’d worn Harry’s robe and tried to solicit him. It didn’t feel as embarrassing as it could be, at least, but Eggsy was sure that was thanks to Harry’s cool demeanour. Now if this were Dean or one of his pets, Eggsy would’ve been knee deep in humiliation and cruel inside jokes.

Roxy sighed, brightening up the room with a dazzling smile. God she was pretty. “All right, training set and a membership for Eggsy?”

Harry nodded. “Please and thank you.” 

“Fantastic. You’ve made my day.” She said, smiling and shrugging and rushing off. 

Eggsy stared after her, brows melded. “She’s...er…”

“A brilliant young woman.”

“Don’t doubt it.” Then something else clicked. “Are you like friends with that Merlin bloke?”

Harry looked around, and patted his arm again. “It’s beneficial to know people in all walks of life.”

Eggsy pulled a face, one Harry didn’t catch. Did Harry enjoy speaking in riddles or was this the way all snobs spoke?

Roxy reappeared before he could stew on it, handing Harry a bag identical to his, only much fuller. “Here we go.”

“Thank you, Roxy.”

“All right. Enjoy. See you two later.”

“This way, Eggsy.”

With a parting nod to Roxy, Eggsy followed after Harry. They meandered through a bunch of sections, the equipment fancy and the people fancier. And good god, were these people hot. Men and women, he couldn’t help himself from taking eyefuls here and there. It was like a display of living art centred around arses. Most of the people had on the matching clothing provided by the gym, and Eggsy looked down at their own bags and wondered how they’d look on them.

“Posh place.” He commented as they entered into a corridor, turning left into the male change rooms. 

“Quite. Here, let’s see you pose in these.” Harry said, turning and handing him his bag. It was heavier than expected, probably cost a shitload.

Eggsy gave him a cocky grin. “Only if you do too.”

“Depends on what you define as a pose.”

They parted to change. Eggsy took a moment to just _be_ , pouting his impressed feelings at the pristine change room (really, they could’ve been in a bridal store for all he knew), and peaked around for any hidden cameras out of habit. He didn’t stray too long and quickly dug into the bag, finding an entire supply of things used to exercise with. He couldn’t even tell what the hell a few things were, but there was a cool water bottle and headband, and he felt posh already. 

He pulled out the basic clothing, eyeing over the grey track pants and vest before undressing and pulling them on. The pair of trainers provided was brand new and it all matched. The fit of everything was perfect too, he thought, wondering how good Roxy was to be able to get it spot on. And really, he didn’t look half bad if he said so himself. 

“All right there?” Harry called from outside his change room.

“Yeah, coming.” Eggsy tried and failed to stuff his own clothing back into the bag, keeping out the water bottle. He gave up and just carted it all out, trying to contain his grin as the soft breathable fabric moved around his skin.

“Feels good.”

Harry looked him over with a satisfied smile. “ You look good. Is the fit all right?”

“Yeah. Never worn something like this before.” He admitted, then stopped. Harry had on the exact same outfit, and yet somehow he looked entirely different to Eggsy, and to his usual self. 

“You look...different.” 

“Good or bad?”

How could Harry even ask? “Good. Definitely good.” Eggsy said with far more conviction than he tried for. 

And Harry _did_ look good, he looked fucking fit. Whatever his age was Harry was still built. Nothing like a bloke of twenty or thirty of course, but there was a solid foundation that had its own appeal. His chest and thighs were defined beneath the fabric, their form clearly visible in a way unlike that of his suits, and Eggsy didn’t even want to get started on his arms. He was taller than he was wide, but it was attractive on its own, a mature strength there that made Eggsy’s own youthful vigour feel rudimentary.

Harry didn’t respond to his words or his obvious gawking, and took the bundle from his arms and put it inside his own change room, which he locked with a tiny key. 

“Let’s go then.” And go did they. 

Fifteen minutes in and Eggsy was having an absolute blast. 

It was _fun_. His weight had never been an issue seeing as he had always been an extremely active kid so wasting money on gym had always been a stupid thing to even think of. The training at the Marines had reminded him how much he enjoyed being physical when he left school, and since he had left that he had taken to running as his daily exercise. He was in shape for the most part and it was showing as he jumped section to section, sweating in no time and fitting in well.

He particularly loved the treadmills, turning the speed up and unnecessarily challenging himself. It felt so good, he felt alive, his thighs and chest burning each time he took a breather. He all but forgot everyone around him for the first while, knowing that at least here he could hold his own where it mattered.

A half hour later and he stumbled off the weights, craning his neck until he found Harry taking a turn on the treadmills. He skipped up, drinking from his bottle, and grinning up at Harry who looked far too kept for a half hour workout.

“I’m impressed.” Harry said to him, pace steady and breathing controlled. Had he been watching? Eggsy had been too busy to notice.

Eggsy laughed, panting around sips. “ _You’re_ impressed? Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”

“Eggsy dear, are you implying something?”

“I ain’t implying nothing.” Eggsy raised his hands in genuine surrender, face already too hot to burn as he threw Harry another thoughtless compliment. “Ya fit.”

Harry smiled down at him, a certain something in his eyes that Eggsy couldn’t decipher with all the bouncing.

Eggsy wandered off again to make the most of their time, strutting around with his nose up and a fat grin plastered on his face. He couldn’t help pretending to be one of these pricks, eating fancy meals instead of burnt toast, going to yoga to keep in shape instead of parkouring to escape the bobbies. And in his high, he found he couldn’t hate them, especially not when he realised he had attracted more than a dozen admiring eyes. 

The men openly stared at him, particularly when he stopped to catch his breath, vest soaked with sweat and clinging to his chest. His arse didn’t look bad either in these track pants and he maaaybe spent a few more minutes bending over here and there than he needed to. The attention was flattering when it wasn’t being forced into his personal space, and he gave half-smiles at the few men who dared throw him one first. 

Did they know he was married to Harry? Did they know Harry, or was it just Roxy? It wasn’t like he had a ring, or gotten snogged in the middle of the room, so Eggsy couldn’t fault them for taking the chance. 

Huh, he hadn’t been snogged at all, actually. What was a kiss? Actors and actresses kissed all the time. Suddenly it seemed bizarre that Harry hadn’t planted at least one peck on him.

He didn’t have time to worry about that though, not once he spotted the gaggle of women eyeing him out too. Young and mature, they all gave him sly smiles and fluttered their eyes, giggling as they leaned into each other to whisper. He couldn’t even get upset with the gossip, because he knew for once it was something nice rather than insulting, if the sultry looks they were giving him were anything to go by. He felt like a bit of a jerk enjoying the attention as he was, but hey, he was supposed to make the most of it, yeah? Might as well have fun before the world went dark again. 

So he returned all the grins the ladies gave him, pretending he was the posh bloke he could have been if his dad hadn’t died all those years back. He might’ve been someone completely different; wearing suits instead of jeans, a girl on each arm, and a few scholarships. He could’ve played the whole scene well, he thought, winking only here and there for effect so the girls flocked around in hopes of receiving their own, and he openly admired the view. These fancy women were stupidly fit, probably eating only the best rabbit food and doing yoga every day and night with their personal trainers. Tits and arses bouncing freely, he wasn’t about to turn that down.

“Eggsy.” Harry’s voice appeared, startling him from his reverie. He almost slipped off the ball he’d ended up sitting on and looked up guilty as charged into Harry’s curious face. “It is considered rude to leer.”

“Just enjoying the view. Them ladies got a few things you don’t.” Eggsy chuckled, because it was true. 

Harry inclined his head to the left, where a particular man stood stretching. Eggsy remembered him as one of the more assertive admirers. “Shall I assume so does that young man other there?”

“He was leering at me. That’s different.” Eggsy shrugged smugly, before realising that yes... maybe that man _did_ have something Harry didn’t, and that maybe Harry was mentioning it for a reason. 

A cold flush fell from his head to his feet and Eggsy stumbled up, rearranging the cocky expression on his face into something humble and most likely fearful as his stupidity hit him like a rogue brick. 

“But it’s nothing. Means nothing to me. I’m sorry.” He rushed out in one breath, his sweat suddenly feeling like a pool of mortification he’d dived in. What was _wrong_ with him? Sitting there like royalty, not jumping to convince his _older husband_ that that young, virile man overflowing with stamina and youth over there meant bugger all. Of course Harry would be touchy about it, who wouldn’t? 

Fuck he was only two days in and as soon as he had a bit of rope he was marvellously hanging himself, directly insulting his suitor—who, worst of all, had been nothing but kind. He just didn’t know how to do this. But it couldn’t be _that_ hard, could it? Girls did it all the time with their sugar daddies. Pulling false smiles and sitting with a constant stream of compliments on their lying lips so long as they were cared for. 

But…he didn’t have to lie with Harry, did he? Harry _was_ fit, and he was…well, looking now, he _was_ handsome. Older than Eggsy was used to but it held an exciting flare that simmered perfectly with the elegant way Harry carried himself. He was actually attractive, Eggsy wouldn’t need to lie, so he’d just have to work on being more verbal about it. And not look at other people, he was _married_ for fucks sake, economically founded or not. He was literally Harry’s, he shouldn’t be looking at other men _or_ women. In fact, Harry had every right to go ballistic right now.

“That’s quite all right.”

Eggsy blinked. Harry gave him a one-sided smile, a brow raised (perhaps in warning?) as he turned and walked off, graceful as ever. 

Eggsy lowered his head in shame. He was such a wanker.

_Someone who is loyal_

Oh yeah, fantastic.

For the rest of the next half hour Eggsy had his eyes trailing after Harry. Suddenly the eyes from all corners of the room felt heavy, something he couldn’t shrug away without offending everyone and ending back to square one where no one but two people seemed to like him. He never did see Roxy again, and he distracted himself unsuccessfully until he gave up. With the drop in mood his energy seemed to have drained with it, and after stalling like a child around the corners of where Harry was, he sidled up, trying to act normal.

“I’m kinda knackered.”

“The showers are down the same corridor to the change rooms, just take a right.”

The honour of eye contact was missing this time, and Eggsy’s anxiety sparked. He hesitated. “…Wanna join me?”

“I’ll still be a short while yet.” Harry said, this time giving him a quick look, and held out the small key to the change room.

Eggsy took the hint (and the key) and hurried off. He sighed as he went, shoulders hunched and hoping everyone had seen and drawn the correct assumption between him and Harry rather than bothering him and helping him dig his pit deeper. He kept his eyes down until he got to the correct door, fighting with it a moment as it stuck, then dug through his brand new bag of gym items for a towel. 

The showers were amazing even though he couldn’t tell what all the million adjustments and setting were for. He chose a private stall rather than the public area, and moaned as the warm water washed over him. He slowly let the water run cool, leaning his palms against the tiles, until he pushed off with a groan, Harry on his mind and the fact that he’d turned down joining him.

Okay that was even less likely than Harry choosing to finally shag him in his own bed, but shouldn’t have Harry accepted just so he could crowd him in one of these stall and _remind_ him where his eyes should be? The apathetic response just felt…wrong. He didn’t know how to explain it. Wasn’t Harry jealous? Angry? Upset? Didn’t he want to show Eggsy a point? Prove he could hold his own against the young men Eggsy had so stupidly allowed to ogle him? Again, Eggsy just wished Harry would _do_ something.

When he crept out there was no Harry in sight. He smiled tightly when he passed three men using the public showers, and rushed through back to Harry’s change room. He paused with the key in the door, wondering if Harry was in there and how it would go seeing as he was naked beneath the towel wrapped around his waist, when he remembered he was the one with the key. He shoved inside and dried quickly, yanking his normal clothes on and stuffing his bag with his gym clothes—which would definitely need a wash.

He took a deep breath as he opened the door, and choked it out as he nearly walked right into Harry.

“Key?”

Eggsy held it out silently. Harry took it, and stepped aside to let him pass. Eggsy slipped out like a cornered animal, bag heavy on his shoulder and feeling worse by the minute.

“Wait in the sitting area. There are very comfortable chairs there.” Harry suggested, like nothing had happened. Eggsy just nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat, and jogged away. He was so useless.

It took him a confused minute to locate the sitting area which was right near the doors, then sat on one of the many available bright pink chairs. He sighed again, and after a moment pulled out his phone, ending up in the gallery instead of games. He looked at the couple pictures Harry had taken of him—hell those were cringe worthy poses—and remembered he was supposed to send his mom one. The one they’d taken for that purpose wasn’t bad, he looked a little reserved but that was to be expected, and he definitely couldn’t send her one where he was posing like a twit. Her sense of humour had fizzled as the drugs weighed in.

He sent the picture to her and contemplated getting hold of Jamal and Ryan; they were bound to find out sooner or later. Maybe it should be sooner, before Harry decided to dick him so he could at least tell them with a straight face that nothing had happened yet. They wouldn’t tease him he knew, but he hadn’t enjoyed the shocked looks on their faces when he admitted his nights on Smith, thanks to Rottie running his big gob. He didn’t want them worrying about him, he wasn’t worth it.

He doodled aimlessly for fifteen minutes, playing with his cap, before Harry reappeared dressed, glasses on, jacket hanging off his one arm, bag in the other. But he wasn’t alone, walking with three women who Eggsy vaguely recognised among the multitudes of faces. One woman was older than the other two, most likely a family, but fuck if they weren’t all identical and stunning, all blonde hair, blue eyes and girlish giggles.

“And the violin lessons?” Harry asked the mother.

The woman exclaimed dramatically. “ _Oh_ , she gave them up, like everything!”

_Who the fuck just gave up violin lessons_

“Mother!”

“Although personally I think she was quite horrible in any case.”

“Oh, I thought she wasn’t bad at all.”

More giggling. Eggsy got up, his heart in his throat. Okay, if this was pay back then lesson learnt. No need for more. He was a quick learner.

Then the woman put her hand on Harry’s arm, and Eggsy stepped one foot closer, wanting to rush in and announce his existence, but at the same time go crawling back into the showers to wash off the leers that had started all of this. It was his fault; he knew when to take the blame. 

“Well, we have to go. Claudia is due for an interview.”

Harry touched her back, a pat to the arm with a warm smile. “Do let me hear the good news.”

“We’ll see! Come now girls, say goodbye.” The woman urged as she ushered her daughters forward, the girls blushing and waving in a false sweet Barbie way that either Harry secretly enjoyed, or couldn’t care about judging by the lack of response. Eggsy hoped it was the latter.

“Good day, ladies.” He said, opening the door for them. 

Eggsy filled their space as soon as they reached the stairs.

“Violin lessons?” he croaked jealously.

“Eggsy.” Harry greeted, letting the door swing shut. He turned to give Eggsy his full attention, making Eggsy pause, but he was too panicked to rein himself back.

“Who’a they?” 

“Regular acquaintances of the gym.”

“Looked like more.”

This drew a better reaction from Harry in the form of a frown. “Don’t be absurd, Eggsy. The woman is married and those are her daughters.”

“You ain’t never heard’a Desperate Housewives? Everyone’s heard of that.”

Harry frowned harder. “ _I_ am married.”

“For two days.” Eggsy squeaked.

The side of Harry’s mouth twitched, and he raised a neat brow. “My dear Eggsy, are you jealous?”

“No.” Should that have been a yes? He wasn’t sure. He was concerned, yeah? Maybe it should be a yes... “Just, three pretty girls, one me. Steep competition.” Oh god, how hypocritical when he had been leading on an entire gym. He must’ve looked like such a slut, what was Harry thinking of him? Had he watched him the whole time? Eggsy had had his fat head so far up his own arse he hadn’t even thought of that. _Of course_ Harry must have been watching him, Harry didn’t buy him for his cooking. A physical appeal had to be a big part of it no matter how little Harry _seemed_ to be interested in him—

“Well, you’re forgetting one thing then.” Harry said, interrupting his racing thoughts. He took a single step forward into the space between Eggsy’s feet and leaned over, taking Eggsy’s very soul away. 

“…Wha’…?”

Harry leaned to breathe in his ear, voice a rumble. “I’m completely bent.”

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

 

They landed in the café anyway. Eggsy hadn’t said a thing the entire time, choosing his drink then shutting his mouth so not to embarrass himself further.

Harry seemed amused with him and not in the cruel way either, but that just made Eggsy feel worse. He debated with himself a few times as to when seemed like a good time to throw a compliment out there, but it sounded all so stupid. Who was he kidding? He was good at wanking pricks in record time, not playing a doting girlfriend. Maybe he should just be direct and let Harry know what he could do better at, give him a heads up and avoid all this awkwardness.

“Too tired for some shopping?” Harry asked as they threw their bags in the trunk of the taxi.

“Nah. I mean no.”

“Excellent.”

With that Harry led him off with a visual prompt. Eggsy hurried after him, hands in his pockets and eyes wandering again. Harry scanned three clothing stores before choosing the fourth which was much bigger, and gave Eggsy the instruction to start choosing casual outfits.

“Jeans?” Harry asked as Eggsy bundled two pairs over his arm, a third in his hand and still on trial.

“You can never have enough jeans.” He explained, but perfectly willing to put them back if Harry pulled even one face.

“Very well. Make sure they fit. Don’t be afraid to fill the trolley.”

Frowning, as he seemed to be doing a lot, Eggsy nodded, watching Harry go off his own way. “Yeah all right.” 

Fill the trolley. Okay, he’d do that. Those were Harry’s exact words, so Eggsy chose four pairs of jeans and eight shirts, wincing at the price labels. Everything was expensive though, it’s not like he could find a bargain heap. But if Harry needed him to put stuff back then he would, he was no stranger to leaving items behind because he couldn’t afford it.

He found Harry near the underwear department, looking through a particular section of silky pyjamas.

“Blue, green or grey?” Harry asked.

Eggsy looked around. “No yellow?”

Harry laughed; a nice sound. “No, thank goodness…”

“Any colours’s good.” Eggsy said, then pointed to the trolley. “…Um, is this too much? You said...and I just...”

Harry looked over the clothing, though not the price labels. “Not at all. Are these agreeable with you?” He held up the three sets of pyjamas, practically matching the ones Harry had at home. Eggsy could probably wear it to court and be allowed in. They did look extremely soft though.

“...Are they with _you_? I mean, I can settle for cotton or sandpaper or something.”

“Nonsense, you’re my new husband to be doted upon.”

Eggsy winced, going red automatically. He shifted, and looked down at his winged trainers that he loved so much. “About that...ain’t I your wife?”

“Technically, according to the contract. But I thought you’d feel more at ease with the masculine term.” Harry explained, moving over to gesture at the next aisle as if Eggsy wasn’t mimicking an awed fish. “Now, socks and underwear. Do you want me to help, or shall I wait by the registers?”

“Uh...I-I think I can manage. Just, grab whatever’s shiny, right?” Eggsy stuttered, trying to ease his floundering with humour.

Harry smiled, helping it along. “Foolproof. Go on.”

Eggsy took a deep breath as soon as he was alone, leaning over the trolley with a breathless laugh. Okay he wasn’t in trouble then, but he was gonna have to take this wife—husband?—business seriously. If Harry was kind enough to think of his comfort over a word that was now his by contract, then he ought to think of Harry’s comfort. Yeah, maybe a wank wasn’t too forward of an offer if Harry was really doing the whole gentleman thing. Even gentlemen had needs, right?

Eggsy tried his best to focus when throwing pairs of socks and underwear into the trolley. Five pairs of socks, ten pairs of brief pants and a handful of silky boxers from the colourful heap. Harry didn’t seem to be big on wild colours, but if it was underwear then it couldn’t hurt right?

Speaking of wild colours, the women’s section was three rows down, and filled with wild colours. Hot pinks, fiery reds, sea blues and outright sparkles; the poor women, were they _ever_ allowed to just be normal and casual? The colours caught his attention, but it quickly diverted to the underwear itself, and he flushed hot at all the thongs, leggings and pretty corsets hanging rack after rack.

Was something like that up Harry’s alley? Or was it too adventurous for him? What were the chances of that ever coming up? He’d like to at least mentally prepare himself...

Well, hand job first, lingerie later.

Rushing guiltily from that corner of the store, Eggsy went in circles before finding Harry by the shoes, standing with a tall young man. They both held two open shoe boxes each, and Eggsy’s heart skipped an important beat when he recognised the labels and a style or two.

“I noticed you only have one pair of trainers. I have it on high authority of this kind assistant that these are of the same brand as your own and the latest range releases. These two are for casual wear, and those are for training and travelling. Are they to your taste or would you prefer others?”

Eggsy gaped at the shoes, head snapping side to side until he looked up, not even trying to hide the _are you mental, bruv_ expression. 

“...These will cost a fortune, yeah?” he reminded, because even for someone well off the bill would be noticeable.

Harry just raised an unconcerned brow and stepped aside to present a second trolley. “Will they? Because I also found these.” 

It was draped with four new jackets striking in style to his own, their hanging labels proving the relation. And one was yellow as fuck.

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

 

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

 

Once the last of the shopping bags had been carried inside with the help of the driver, Eggsy stood in the middle of the piles, shaking his head. Harry stepped around him with a secret smile on his face, putting his keys down and hanging up his jacket. 

“This is sorta mental, you know that right?” Eggsy repeated. Same message, just different phrases, all the way home.

“Perhaps a little.” Harry shrugged. “I’ll start dinner while you sort out your clothes.”

Eggsy would’ve complained about how long it would take to drag upstairs, but he also knew Harry’s cooking was worth anything. Harry left him to own devices, and Eggsy got to work. An hour later and his legs were finally starting to show signs of weariness, pulling as he plopped back on the bed with a tired groan. His sides of the drawers and wardrobe were full to the brim, he even had to leave a few out. He pulled out most of his old ones to make space seeing as they could afford to be crumpled and manhandled.

But not his brand new bright Plague jacket. Fucking hell. What the fuck.

There were just no words, none at all, other than _this is crazy_. He didn’t deserve any of this, and he wasn’t just being _emo_. He really didn’t. But he couldn’t turn it down, and he wouldn’t, so he’d make up for it. Cooking dinner was already a dead end, but _after_ dinner, well...maybe he could offer that shower again. 

And he didn’t even feel dirty thinking about it, not like he thought he would. He felt like a prince, pampered and posh with his charming _doting_ (hell they had both thought of that word today) husband. It didn’t feel like prostitution, and he was glad for it. He was bloody married to a decent-ish-seeming-kinda man called Harry-fucking-Hart and there was absolutely nothing whorish about offering some sensual attention to show his appreciation for the clothing.

Right?

Eggsy followed the smell of food back downstairs as soon as he got his bearings, and in time too.

“I was just about to call.” Harry said, giving him a smile as he set their plates.

“Sorry. Almost got lost up there.” Eggsy joked, taking his seat and swallowing back the drool as the warm scent of beef stew and bread filled his nose.

Harry seated himself after hanging up his apron. “I’ll make some more space if you need it.” 

“No, no. ‘S all right. Lucky you ain’t marry a girl though, then you’d need a whole ‘nother room.”

“We’re not doing too bad ourselves.” Harry replied in like, and Eggsy laughed.

Harry smiled lightly, holding his gaze for just a moment, then gestured. “Bon appétit.”

“Thanks.” Eggsy didn’t stall dishing up for himself, and as expected Harry waited patiently until he was done before doing so for himself. Eggsy’s face was tinted pink, nothing red like the day before, thank god; maybe he was slowly going to beat this whole blushing nonsense. Dean would’ve taken a grater to his cheeks.

They ate in a comfortable silence, the earlier incident forgotten so much so that Eggsy was beginning to think it was just him that had the problem. The stew was hearty ( _Harty_ , he snorted around his mouthful) and downright _wrong_. Sinful! No one should be able to cook this well. Except maybe Gordon Ramsay, he wasn’t going to go up against that man.

There was a bottle of red wine on the table tonight to go with the stew, and Eggsy lost the battle against the blushes as Harry caught his sneaky glances and poured him a glass without so much as an utter. He mumbled his thank yous and fought off the grins—he was getting highs from good food, this had to be the weirdest thing ever. Last night it was the pizza, tonight Harry’s stew and wine. Although this night there was definitely a chance of getting drunk. Huh.

“So...” Eggsy started once he deemed their plates empty enough, Harry reclining back and sipping his second glass. Eggsy too was on his second, debating on encouraging Harry into a third with him. “Thank you. I love all of it. I ain’t never...I ain’t never had anyone splash out and do somethin’ like this f’me. Even if we’re... thanks.”

“Your gratitude makes it all worth it.” Harry dismissed kindly. “Is the food to your liking?”

“Not bad, yeah. Not bad at all.” Eggsy patted his stomach, throwing back his last sip. And if Harry watched his throat as he swallowed he pretended to be oblivious and set the glass down carefully with a sated sigh, pretending to be that posh prince he was seriously feeling like.

“Thank you.” Harry said.

“Today was fun. The gym. The work out, I mean. I needed that. Was good.” Eggsy leaned forward on the table, willing Harry to believe him. Not many people in his life ever took his word.

“So did I.” Harry said, glancing once at his elbows. “You can go there any time of day or night, just take your membership card. The number for the Kingsman taxi service is in your phone. Rides are free of charge. Same case should you wish to go anywhere else.”

“Thanks.” Eggsy said, logging the information away for later, pouting in surprise. What else did Kingsman offer for free? Security? Strippers? Medieval board games? Harry might be a bit too old for the latter. Which reminded him to ask—no...too soon...

Glancing away from Harry’s face, he looked at his white dress shirt, and frowned. “...Will-...”

“Will?”

“Are we still gonna get me a suit?”

“Most certainly. Are you looking forward to it?”

Eggsy nodded honestly. “Yeah.”

Harry smiled handsomely. “Good.”

Eggsy helped to clean up tonight. He assisted Harry as best he could, accidentally tapping the delicate stew bowl against the wall into the kitchen and giving himself a heart attack, but otherwise no incidents. Harry put away the wine without offering a third glass (how rude, Eggsy’s scheming inner voice piped up), and wiped the kitchen clean before deeming dinner done. 

“You’re really good at all’a this.” Eggsy observed, the counter top shining with their reflections.

“Only a foolish man fails to learn how to care for himself.” Harry said, waiting for Eggsy to move aside before he vacated the kitchen, giving Eggsy a pat on the shoulder as he passed. “You’ll learn in no time.”

“For now though...wanna take that shower with me?”

Harry stopped in his tracks, and Eggsy straightened in preparation, staring at the back of Harry’s head. 

To Harry’s credit he turned right around to face Eggsy, hands slipping into his pockets. His face gave away little, keeping Eggsy both relieved and confused, but at least not humiliated.

“That is very tempting, but I must decline. Thank you.”

Eggsy pulled his lips, _wrong answer_ , and shrugged to hide the small flicker of annoyance. “All right then. Do you want a wank?” His cheeks remained the same pink they’d been since the wine. He’d asked variations of this question enough as a rentboy, he proudly could do it without falling over himself. In response to the pop of Harry’s brows he swallowed his bouncing nerves and shrugged again. “I tried the subtle way.”

Harry’s mouth fell open with a funny twist that Eggsy caught, and recognised too late as what might be offence. 

“I did not take you shopping so that—” 

“I know. I know that. But I’m asking cause I want to. I’m twenty-three and hot-blooded, what d’you expect?” Eggsy stepped forward, hands out. They were shaking; why? He could suck one bloody cock.

“I _hope_ for a little trust, and that is all Eggsy.”

“But—”

“Eggsy.” Harry’s voice was hard, but Eggsy was high on food and wine and the priceless new wardrobe upstairs, _and Harry’s stupid manners_ and he went on regardless.

“Then what about a kiss? You haven’t even done that.”

“No, I haven’t. Now stop fussing about this and go do something. I’ll shower first.” Harry turned and walked off this time.

Eggsy shrugged dramatically to the empty room, shoulders giving a dull ache. “D’you get a thrill cock-blocking yourself or something...?”

“No, Eggsy.” Harry’s voice echoed down the hall, something blatantly comical in it beneath the exasperation, and Eggsy laughed himself into unnecessary nerve-wrecked tears.

When had beating around the bush become his actual life?


	5. When I am Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some horrid slow-burn happened. Good luck, soldiers.
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

**Chapter 5: When I am Down**

 

Eggsy shivered; his skin bitten and burning cold. 

He twitched, trying to locate Daisy’s dependable body heat, and belatedly her scent. When he found neither he twitched again, this time moving his arms, and found them incapacitated.

His eyes snapped open at once and he jerked, looking down in panic as he brought his hands up with a pained groan. Little bolts of fire shot through each of his very heavy limbs. The relief of being unbounded was short lived, and he collapsed back down with another groan, shutting his eyes as quake after quake of aches throbbed throughout his body. There wasn’t a place that didn’t hurt, and he lay back as tense and prickled as bobbed wire, breathing harshly through his nose.

_Fuck he was sore_

Any little movement made his stomach sear fiercely, but that was just the tip of the ice berg. His shoulders and neck were stiff, his legs were just about to cramp him into next year and his bum was throbbing like he’d pulled a few muscles, then a few fucking more.

But it quickly came to him.

The vigorous work out. The gym. 

He should have seen this coming—but no. He was too busy showing off for all those materialistic snobs instead of getting a controlled work out to keep himself fit for his husband, who had been nice about the whole bloody thing. 

Well, at least the field was even now, he was definitely getting his pay back. 

It took fifteen minutes according to the clock for Eggsy to relax his body enough to roll over to the left side. He tried once to reach his phone but almost immediately gave up, shaking his head, neck in his shoulders as he slowly brought back his arm, and tried instead to get up—a worse goal.

His legs refused to respond. All right then, biceps.

They held for a second before flopping.

Fuck.

Eggsy lay awkwardly on his side, realising he was very naked save for his underwear, blanket tangled somewhere around his lower legs. He must look absolutely stupid lying like this, and he felt like it too. Why? Just... _why_ world.

Another fifteen minutes later and Eggsy steadied himself to sit up. It had just gone eight now and it was probably already time for breakfast. That meant Harry would be expecting him; it would be rude to keep him waiting. And Eggsy didn’t want to. But two feet on the floor and a hand on the bedside table did nothing to stop him from sailing to the floor like a stubborn sack of potatoes. 

His right side took the brunt of it, making his very core vibrate. A whine escaped him and he went limp, shoulder squashed beneath him and everything hurting. He couldn’t even choose an area that _didn’t_ hurt.

“Eggsy?” Harry called from downstairs, sounding cautious. 

“Shit…” Eggsy swore under his breath, wincing loudly as he scrunched up his eyes and pushed with all his might, getting himself up and back against the bed in the least undignified position he could muster. He sighed loudly in relief when he made it, and reached to squeeze his burning biceps as Harry eventually poked his head in with a frown.

As soon as he spotted Eggsy his confusion turned to concern and he rushed in.

“Eggsy? What happened?” Harry asked as he knelt and looked over Eggsy, who was far too sore to give a single fuck about his blue underpants. He’d gone to bed in them because it was hot, and _he_ was hot (Harry implied so in agreement, he was sure), and maybe it would get _hotter_... But it didn’t, and he fell asleep before he could be offended or think too much on it, full on dinner and body exhausted from the day. Clearly more exhausted than he anticipated.

“I think I over did it yesterday. I can’t move.” Eggsy said, speaking clearly at least.

Harry frowned, glasses making his eyes look just a little bigger and clearer. Or maybe it was their proximity. He put a careful hand on Eggsy’s shoulder and looked over him again, but there was more worry in his eyes than anything questionable. Thank god too, Eggsy was in no condition to defend himself, _again_. Harry had to be a witch. Yeah, that was it.

“Perhaps I should have monitored you better. Come on, back on the bed.” 

Just the thought of making it all the way back up there made Eggsy groan, but Harry pressed close and slid his arm around his back and heaved him up. There was still enough space in Eggsy to heat up at the contact with Harry’s chest, having little choice but to lean against Harry and accept his help. He tried his best to work his body, wincing nonetheless but successfully got his backside back on the bed. Harry pulled away once he was sitting, but kept a hand on his shoulder as if he knew Eggsy might fall over without it.

Bloody hell, couldn’t he do anything right? Always ploughing head first, thinking he knew better. Harry was frowning again, looking down worriedly at him as Eggsy’s breathing became that of hissing. Eggsy shook his head, trying to smooth out his expression. “I think I just need to—ow! Ow, okay…”

Harry kept him down and still, his hand warm and firm. “You need a good soak in the bath, some breakfast and a massage.”

Eggsy laughed, and shook his head again. “I don’t wanna inconvenience you—”

“Not at all. I should have said something. I just didn’t want to make you feel restricted.”

“I’m fit, I swear. I just get carried away sometimes.”

The hand on his shoulder drifted. It glided over to his back and against his right shoulder blade, making him go still again. Harry leaned to take a casual look at his back, lightly digging his fingers into the grooves, testing. “So do I. But like everything with time you’ll learn to pace yourself. Unless it’s a particularly exciting moment, then a little over indulgence is expected…”

Eggsy laughed weakly, peeking up as Harry’s fingers did a strange little dance against a particularly tense spot. “Bet you’d have earned it for keeping yourself in check like you do.”

Harry smiled lightly. “Precisely. Although there is something to be said for delayed gratification. Wait here.” He pressed Eggsy’s shoulder once, as one would reaffirming a stick in the sand, and headed into the en suite. Eggsy held onto the side of the bed and just breathed, flexing his legs out in front of him. It wasn’t too bad, he was regaining his power the more the sleep subsided. But it still hurt. 

The sound of water running made him turn, yelping not even half-way through it as he stopped to save his neck, and looked back at his thighs, bare and pale and so very tempting, even to his own eyes. He listened to the water slosh around, filling the tub until it went silent, and Harry reappeared besides him, posture straight. 

“May I help you in?”

“Yeah, please.” Eggsy nodded, lifting his arm for Harry to slot himself in, and lift him up. His legs wobbled like jelly for a moment before he managed to control them, more than a little aware of how much weight he was giving over to Harry. Harry wasn’t that much bigger than him, he didn’t want to send neat-trim-and-suited Harry crashing to the floor—wait Harry had on a cuddly beige jersey what was going on

“Careful now.” Harry said, arm around his back as he guided him.

“Fuck…’m sorry…” Eggsy moaned, his heart sinking as every step shot through him like a spiritual dagger. The only thing he could feel besides the pain and embarrassment was Harry, solid and dependable as he stumbled.

“It’s all right, Eggsy.” Harry said, taking him to the full tub. When they stopped he turned a little and bent over, taking Eggsy’s stiff calf. His gave it the tiniest of squeezes before lifting it. “Left foot first.”

“Pants?” Eggsy reminded, suddenly realising it felt like one side of it was stuck between the cheeks.

Harry looked up at him from his waist. “They won’t die in the water.”

“I won’t die you seein’ me naked.”

“No, but you won’t relax either. In you go.” Harry helped him in one foot at a time, murmuring something that could be sweet magical nothings as Eggsy hissed at the warm water. Harry physically guided Eggsy, an arm always secured around his body as he brought him down into the water. Eggsy tried his best not to wet Harry’s clothes, peeking at the design on the wool of his jumper to help distract himself from the sting of putting his legs out straight in the tub.

Harry eased him back until he was reclining tensely, feeling like a damn invalid. But the water was nice, it was warm and soothing and shit he could drift off again…

“I’ll be back in a few. Let the heat soak in.”

“Yeah, all right...” Eggsy watched him go, sighing heavily once he was alone. 

Eggsy lifted his heavy eye lids open; he didn’t need to give Harry extra work by falling asleep. Keeping them open also gave him some material to work with to distract himself from both the pain and self-disappointment. He’d never seen Harry’s bathroom from down here. He saw a pattern to the butterfly cases that he might not have noticed, and spotted small moth in the far corner of the ceiling, no doubt eyeing out what it couldn’t get.

When Harry didn’t immediately return Eggsy reminded himself to relax, letting the warm water hug his twitching muscles until the hug won out, and he was limp again. His chest peeked above the surface and felt horribly left out, but he was akin to a block of led so he ignored it, waving his fingers in the water.

Fucking hell, this was good. It took extra effort not to pee. 

_This is the life_ , he thought with a lazy smile. He and his mates would talk for hours about living a life like this and what they’d do. The only thing missing from this scene was the bubbles, an mp3 player playing on the toilet and a pretty girl joining him. It wasn’t a complete loss though, definitely not in comparison to the quick showers he’d have back home, rushing, always rushing, always on the run.

But not here though. No one was chasing him here, except maybe himself... 

His eyes fell closed. His breathing was calm, his body was loose, and he felt good. Genuinely good, his aches numbing to a dull throb. Harry returned then with a single courtesy knock on the door.

“Drink this.” Harry said as he sat on the rim of the bath, and held out to Eggsy a clear tumbler filled with red juice. It had a straw, thank goodness, and Eggsy took it with minimal shaking of his arms. He rested the cold bottom against his chest and raised a brow.

“Did you just go make this?”

“Had it delivered.”

“Do Kingsman do smoothies too?” Eggsy asked as he caught the straw with his tongue, taking a long drag. The flavour was instantaneous and he scrunched his face up, tongue dancing at the rich flavour. Cherry, he gathered. What? He used to suck lollies a lot as a kid.

“No, but their coffee is quite divine.” Harry smiled, but he looked over Eggsy again with a conflicted gaze. “…So sorry about this Eggsy. I feel quite bad.”

“For what?” Eggsy popped off the straw, licking his lips. “Nah, I’m the idiot that went all Tally Ho.”

Harry smiled to himself, then got up. “I’ll go put breakfast side for now.”

“No, please. Eat without me. I’ll catch up.”

“I can wait. Finish that.” 

Harry didn’t leave much of a chance to argue. But Harry was a grown man, Eggsy figured, he could do what he wanted for whatever reason he wanted. 

Eggsy sucked down the juice, humming and abusing the straw as he slurped it up. It tasted amazing, cool and refreshing him from the inside. Harry returned sooner this time, and Eggsy immediately saw that his sleeves were rolled up, carrying a towel and roaming Eggsy’s body with his eyes.

“Whaddya doing?” he asked, fearing for a moment Harry was going to _wash_ him like some child.

“How about a massage?” Harry sat on the rim again, folding the towel over his lap.

Eggsy tried to think of a good excuse as to why that would be weird, until he registered the words. He paused, toes wriggling just beneath the surface as he debated it—a fucking _massage_. Harry’s nimble hands could probably take apart a master clock and put it back together as if it never happened.

“…That ain’t necessary.” He said after a long pause.

“Are you afraid of causing inconvenience, or being touched?”

Eggsy mouthed, mind blank.

Harry turned to get up. “Okay then, I’ll—”

“No wait.” The water sloshed as he lifted his left foot, far more nimble now than when he woke up. Harry regarded him for a moment, his stare making Eggsy’s skin flare, then he sat back down, and cupped Eggsy’s ankle before it could fall from the strain.

Before he lifted it further Harry engaged him in skin-prickling eye contact, taking long enough that Eggsy could’ve pulled his leg away. There were words in his eyes that Eggsy couldn’t read, thoughts and emotions, almost nostalgia, and Eggsy wished he could ask. But it seemed every time he asked something he never quite had his queries answered.

This time Harry’s hand was cooler than the warmed skin of Eggsy’s foot. He lifted and placed Eggsy’s heel on the towel over his thigh, keeping his foot flat rather than pointed out. The angle made Eggsy’s hamstring pull but it was manageable and eased off the cramping, and Harry situated it so that wasn’t at risk of falling off.

They said nothing to each other as Harry started. 

He used both hands, rubbing his thumbs up and down the instep. The effect was immediate and Eggsy’s whole leg twitched. Harry held on with a gentle firmness, easing off when Eggsy’s leg stiffened, continuing as the muscles softened and gave way. 

With the juice nearly finished Eggsy suckled softly, watching with small eyes as Harry rolled his thumbs in delightful little circles, each one feeling better than the last.

“Is this okay?” Harry asked softly.

Eggsy took a deep breath and nodded, the skin of his foot becoming incredibly sensitive. “Yeah, it’s good.” 

Harry nodded, then stopped. Eggsy opened his mouth in dismay, ready to slap himself, when he realised Harry was just moving up. The younger man clenched his teeth over the straw, eyes widening as Harry’s capable hands wrapped about his calf. The fingers were slow at first, pressing and gliding shallowly before they grew confident in the softening of Eggsy’s muscles. Soon enough they were dancing like those of a flute player, and every small releasing pain felt damn near orgasmic. Eggsy could feel it all the way up in his thighs and his butt, his limbs started to warm and quiver anew.

And it wasn’t the only thing he was starting to feel. He was indeed only twenty three, and Eggsy stilled as a shiver of arousal came over him. It made him tense slightly, but Harry caught on instantly and stopped, looking up for some kind of signal with those intense fucking eyes. Eggsy gave him complete eye contact and shook his head to dismiss it so that Harry’s eyes didn’t wander, but something in Harry’s face changed anyway, and he finished off sooner than Eggsy hoped he would.

Finished off _that_ leg, Eggsy realised in utter glee. 

“Any progress?” Harry asked as he switched legs, bringing the other foot onto his lap.

“Loads.” Eggsy breathed, swivelling his liberated foot.

Harry smiled down at his current foot, starting the procedure again. “Good.”

The juice was finished, but Eggsy needed something else to do or he’d pop a stiffy for sure. He sucked uselessly at the straw, squeezing the plastic as he watched Harry unravel the muscles in his foot until it was a mass of tingling boneless flesh. Eggsy’s entire body was more or less unravelled just from this, his gut clenched tightly as he patiently waited for Harry’s hands to move higher.

When they finally did Eggsy closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. He willed his heart to calm down, fuelling a simmer in his lower body that had nothing to do with his muscles. Harry’s hands were fucking _magic_. Eggsy could almost imagine how skilled those hands would be a little _higher_...

The moan was out before he could stop it, and it didn’t help that Harry caught a particularly painful mound at the same time. Eggsy’s eyes opened, brows furrowing and mouth parting into a small ‘O’ as the pleasure soaked into his bones. The sting of pain only fuelled his hormones, blood searing through his veins making him shudder.

Harry didn’t falter or stop this time, rolling his calf around his hands like he was giving a pottery lesson. His eyes stayed where his hands were, and Eggsy found the offer of personal space extremely decent. He wasn’t used to decent, and he didn’t hate it either.

“Sore?” Harry asked suddenly, and Eggsy released he was all tense again.

He swallowed and manually eased his body, eyes flicking from Harry’s hands to his face. “’S okay. Feels good.”

His leg could have been the only thing in the world at the moment. Harry was concentrating as if the wellbeing of his leg was actually important. He’d pulled enough muscles in his life, he wasn’t going to fall apart without this...

“…I’m sorry about yesterday. I swear I wasn’t tryna be a little shit. I’d never step out on you.” He mumbled, feeling the size of a mouse but he was man enough to admit his faults. 

Harry made a facial gesture that said he accepted it. “Thank you, Eggsy.”

“I mean it. I just...-”

“Got carried away?”

“Yeah. But I won’t do it again. I’m yours. Promise.”

Harry’s hands stopped. He was still looking at Eggsy’s legs, face unreadable from the angle.

“Yeah?” Eggsy prompted nervously. He knew his word wasn’t worth much, but he could use a little slack here, being tossed into an entirely new world.

Harry looked up, and slid his one hand a little higher. Eggsy’s breathing stopped. Harry’s fingers were just brushing the back of Eggsy’s knee where the skin was thin and sensitive.

“It’s all right, Eggsy. You’re allowed to enjoy feeling attractive and desired.”

“N-not like that…” Eggsy whispered, glancing at the hand. He licked his suddenly dry lips and hesitated, glancing up from beneath his lashes as his head swirled. “Do you...”

“Do I think you’re attractive?”

Eggsy nodded minutely, making a tiny embarrassing sound as Harry squeezed his flesh, dangerously close to his thigh. 

“Yes, very much so.”

Oh god, Eggsy had never been so attracted to a bespectacled older man in a granddad jersey before. 

“…Then there’s no need f’me to act like a tart.” Eggsy said, pushing his foot into the towel to rub his heel into Harry’s thigh. “’Cept for you.” He added, loyally. Maybe things would move forward now, he had been buttered up enough to agree to anything. There was really no damn reason for all this stalling. Surely a man of Harry’s age knew the value of time.

Apparently not.

The hand withdrew, and Harry smiled down at him like nothing suggestive had just passed between them. Eggsy’s erection was battling the line, causing an uncomfortable pull as Harry lowered his leg back into the water.

“What—?” Eggsy grunted, cockier than he—no, no he meant it like that. But Harry interrupted.

“Roxy called earlier. She’d like to take you out for lunch whenever you’re interested.” 

“Yeah. That’d be good. But don’t change the subject. Was you imagining me—”

Harry got to his feet and fluffed the towel out. “Time to get out.”

Eggsy pulled a face. “Already?”

“I can’t reach your back properly like this.”

“...Oh. All right.” 

Getting out of the bath was far easier than it had been getting in, even if Harry still aided him. He tried not to drip on Harry’s shoes as he went, one hand on the wall to be safe. He shook out each leg, brows high at the noticeable change. Maybe Harry was a masseuse.

“Feels better already.”

Harry made a satisfied expression, then gestured to the open towel. “May I?”

The wounded pride inside Eggsy growled, but it had no place here. He would never be able to reach his feet. So much for bending over. Eggsy grinned to himself at the horrible innuendo and nodded, ignoring the curious peak on Harry’s face.

Like everything he did Harry was meticulous and careful, towelling Eggsy methodically until he was dry save for his underwear. He didn’t stall or make any more suggestive moves even when around Eggsy’s thighs; face smooth, lips sealed, and hands steady. It was possibly as relaxing as the bath and Eggsy held tighter to the wall so not to fall over as he leaned into the soft fabric caressing his skin.

Too soon it was over and Harry hung the towel up, and took him back to the room. He let Eggsy walk on his own this time (which had Eggsy’s groin gnawing at him irritably; the mixed signals were killing him), and finally gave Eggsy’s crotch a direct glance.

“I’ll leave you to change that. Lay down on your stomach when you’re done. I have some good oils that will relieve the pain.”

“Y’gonna put me back to sleep.” Eggsy chuckled, blushing weakly when Harry just smiled. Eggsy was starting to see the mischief behind those casual smiles, if only they could just make a proper appearance.

Getting the underpants off was harder than getting a new pair on, but Eggsy found himself rushing to do it anyway. If Harry chose to have him completely naked then Harry ought to make that move, Eggsy didn’t quite enjoy all the weird rejection. He haphazardly flung the soaked pair into the bathroom where it landed on the rim of the bath, and then threw himself on the bed. His legs hung off from the knees down and he groaned at all the pulls still presence. He relaxed in increments and remained face down, still feeling incredibly unsexy as his legs hummed, even with his brand new black briefs.

When he heard Harry return he turned his face to the side and puffed out a breath.

“You don’t have to, y’know. You done plenty.”

Harry sat beside him with two bottles of oil, Eggsy couldn’t read the labels. 

“I’d like to. If you are all right with it.”

“Never gonna turn down a massage, bruv.”

Harry took the permission with a nod and adjusted himself, pulling his pants up slightly as he did, rolling his sleeves up once more. Eggsy watched as much as he could from the angle but he couldn’t look into Harry’s face without hurting his neck, so he settled for peripheral vision.

The moment Harry’s hands met his back, Eggsy’s eyes fell closed with a slight pucker, and his mouth parted.

“Does it hurt?” Harry asked as he pressed, spreading the oil like a breeze against the skin.

“Nah…fuckin’ heaven…” Eggsy moaned, moaning again when Harry dug his thumbs into his shoulder blades in a long smooth drag. Eggsy’s breath hitched in his thought and he jerked, his cock definitely swelling this time now that it was hidden and pressed between his body and the bed. “You’s good at everything…” he said as if it were a bad thing, which it definitely wasn’t— _FUCK_

“Perhaps.” Harry said, amused. Eggsy liked that he could already tell that just by the tone. Progress.

“Y’must teach me... Teach me how. Teach me…all the stuff…” Eggsy babbled, falling right back to sleep.

“I’ll teach you everything, my dear.” Harry murmured, fingers dipping into the small of Eggsy’s back where he was stiff.

Eggsy smiled sleepily, sucking back drool that threatened to escape. “I like that…”

“What?” 

“ _That_ …”

Harry paused for a moment, long enough to make Eggsy kick his feet demandingly. Then Harry leaned in, enveloping Eggsy in a rush of warmth from his presence alone. “…You’ll have to be more specific, my little darling.”

“Uugh…fuck, that’s good. Shit.” There was no filter left. If Eggsy had all his energy and proper motor function he’d have flipped onto his back and grabbed at Harry’s neck and _forced the fuck out of him to do something_. He moved his hips lazily into the bed, making a miserable sound that sounded far away.

Harry pressed him down, running his fingers up to squeeze the muscles at the back of Eggsy’s neck. “Relax.” He urged, ironically making it extremely difficult.

“Sore.” Eggsy whined as his neck creaked but still wriggling to give Harry more skin.

“Okay.” Harry squeezed softer but kept his hands high, rolling out the valleys of Eggsy’s shoulder until he was sore in only the best ways. His shoulders were much loser now, heavy and numb. 

“Is you really like this?” Eggsy asked into the bedding, shivering as Harry’s fingers slipped around and around his neck—so dangerous. A snake coiling. Something Dean would do when trying to make a point. A noose.

The question was rhetorical and he probably wouldn’t remember it later, but his filter was broken and Harry had yet to beat any boundaries into him to follow.

“For the most part.”

“Wha’s the ov’er par’?”

“...Something only an enemy needs to worry about.”

“B’noh me?”

The hand on his neck stilled, and then slid up to cup the back of his head. 

“Never you, Eggsy.” 

Eggsy was already gone, smiling even as the morbid words slipped out. “We’ll see…” 

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

 

It was just after three in the afternoon when Eggsy woke up. He was groggy and hot and fought with the covers like a drunk, his body feeling like a cooked noodle. When he got himself free from the heat he wriggled over a space for a cooler spot, testing out his limbs as the morning’s activities came creeping back in.

Harry Hart was completely weird, he decided, but he must be a pro at giving hand jobs. Maybe that’s how he’d been managing to keep his hands to himself. The comic inside Eggsy shouted _selfish_.

It was too early from his nap—understatement of the century—to be even worrying about that. Eggsy turned to his phone for a distraction, wincing a bit as he stretched.

There was a message from his mum, but otherwise it was empty. He hadn’t had a phone for a few months now after Dean stood on his last to teach him a lesson for something he couldn’t remember, but he did remember being able to send stupid messages back and forth between his mates. He really wanted to reach out to them, but it just felt too soon. He had no idea how to tell them, even when this was turning more into a stay at a bed and breakfast than an economical marriage.

It felt little like a marriage actually, and Harry wasn’t helping him play his role. He was looking after him yeah, but he wasn’t helping him _fit_ , and it was not something Eggsy knew how to do on his own. Clearly Harry wanted a clichéd domesticity, and that was not on Eggsy’s list of skills. He couldn’t cook, he couldn’t clean, he couldn’t even set a table. He didn’t speak like Harry did, he didn’t know shit about wine or the rules of etiquette; how would he ever host a party for Harry? Cook Christmas dinner? Sit himself in Harry’s lap during a Christmas dinner with all Harry’s equally as prestigious mates, engaging in interesting conversation as if he was one of them. 

Harry knew all this about him. And if somehow he hadn’t when he bought him then he definitely knew it all now—and yet he wasn’t coming forth with requirements or hints or suggestions as to how Eggsy could play his part. He kept rejecting Eggsy’s offers of what he _could_ do, without asking for something— _anything_ —to compensate. He just fed him and kept him, like some pet. 

Then again, if that turned out to be the actual journey of this marriage, then maybe Eggsy shouldn’t complain. How many of the other blokes like him could say they got through their Kingsman marriage without being violated at least once? 

The Harry-topic had sneaked back up on him so quickly and slyly that Eggsy looked around, pulling an incredulous face at the room as if it had influenced him. This was getting ridiculous. Maybe he was just ridiculous. Harry was ridiculous.

He thumbed through his phone until he dialled his mother, and slotted the phone to his ear comfortably as he waited for her to answer.

She answered after the second ring. “ _Eggsy?_ ” she asked, as if she was being pranked.

He smiled when he answered, because he believed they could be heard when someone spoke. “Hey, mum. How are you?”

“ _I’m all right, we’re all right. Are you?_ ”

“Yeah, I’m good. Really good, actually.”

She hesitated. “ _Truly?_ ”

Eggsy sighed, and nodded, glancing down at his body. He hoped nothing in his voice gave away that he was lying near-naked in Harry’s bed, because just explaining that it wasn’t like that would be hard enough. “Yeah. So far it’s all good. He bought me some new clothes, and we went to this banging gym. And he cooks like a pro.” Fuck, it was good being honest about good stories. All those things were real.

She sighed, and he heard the smile in her voice. “ _You have no idea how good it is to hear that, babe. I’m been thinking about you all day long since you left_.”

“Nah, I’m good mum.” He said as surely as he could. He paused and bit at his lip. “He’s good. Hasn’t hurt me yet.”

“ _You know where to find Mr. Merlin’s number if anything changes?_ ”

“Yeah mum. But it’s all right. Don’t think I’ll be needing to. He ain’t like that.” Another glorious truth to tell. He really hoped it was a truth, it was getting harder to imagine anything else.

“ _What’s his house like?_ ” she asked, sounding curious and bright.

“Small. I don’t think we gonna be having a baby any time soon.” He said in mock-lament, grinning when she burst into laughter. “Small yeah, but nice. You’d love it, mum. Really homelike. Paintings, doyleys, clean carpet.” She really would like it. Now that he thought of it, Harry’s home was somewhat like their old home, when his father was still alive if the pictures Michelle kept hidden away were anything to go by. 

“...So you wanna visit sometime? Not now but maybe in a few weeks?”

“ _I’d love that, baby._ ”

“How’s Daisy?”

“ _She’s fine. Missing you at night._ ”

His smiled sadly. “Give her a big kiss for me, yeah?”

“ _A hundred_.” She said, but cut short to a noise in the background. She spoke softer afterwards. “ _Gotta go, love. Dean’s back._ ”

“I love you.” He said loudly, suddenly.

“ _Love you too, babe_.” She said, breathing enough emotion into it to keep him stable.

She ended the call, and Eggsy lay with phone against his ear until his stomach reminded him of its existence with a demanding growl. He groaned lazily and glanced back at the clock, willing the hands to just stop moving altogether.

They ignored him, so after the fourth rumble he fought his way up and sat rolling his shoulders. He was still sore but completely loosened, all thanks to Harry hands— _enough with the hands!_

“ _Stoooooop_...” he breathed to himself, pushing to his feet with a resolve to get dressed and go make himself something to eat like a normal person—until he saw that Harry had left a robe out for him on the bed. The same crimson one he’d snatched the first day here.

Eggsy stared at it. It stared back.

The clock stared at them both.

The robe won on grounds of fluffiness.

It smelt of nothing but cleanliness, nothing to intrude on Eggsy as he slipped it on and let it hide him away, though it couldn’t hide his blushing. _My little darling._

Lips up to the right at his defeat Eggsy fastened the tie as he limped out the room. He didn’t get far before noticing the light of Harry’s study was on, and veered to peek inside.

He was used to looking into bright places from a darker vantage point, it kept you hidden from sight, so he nearly shat himself when Harry noticed him almost immediately.

“Eggsy.”

“H-Harry.”

“Come in. How do you feel?”

Eggsy slipped in, taking a courtesy look down, blushing just a little at his accepting of the robe and whether it meant something to Harry. “Much better thanks.”

“Take a seat.” Harry gestured to the single chair available against the wall across from his table, closing his lap top.

Eggsy padded over, his calves still shaky, and plopped down. 

“I slept all day.” He said, knowing it was obvious but lost for a topic of conversation.

“I can imagine you needed it.”

Eggsy nodded, and used the room as an excuse to stall making eye contact. It didn’t take much trying either, the walls a perfect scapegoat. “...Why all the headlines? You don’t seem like a rabid tabloids reader.”

“Each front page represents a significant event in my life.”

“That’s a lot of events.”

“I’ve lived a long time.”

Eggsy pursed his lips, brows up. “You been places, then? Out of Britain?”

“Many. The world isn’t very big in that regard.”

“I ain’t never been out the city.”

Harry hummed, leaning back in his chair, fingers linked over his stomach. “Perhaps I should plan something for our one year anniversary.”

Eggsy smiled despite himself, letting the heat creep up from his core as they made eye contact. “Like a vacation?”

“Anywhere you’d like to go?”

“Gonna have to think about that.”

“Take your time. We do have a year.”

An entire year together. Many years together. Perhaps a life time. What did the future hold for them, for Eggsy? He’d stopped giving his future much thought after the Marines; it was just too depressing. But now suddenly he was being given the go-head to think about where in the world he’d like to go to on _vacation_ for his _one year anniversary with Harry, his husband._ …It was actually exciting. And the more he acknowledged that, the more liberated he felt. Nerve-wrecked as hell, but excited. IF this, all of this so far, was going to be his life...well, he might actually fucking enjoy the ride. He was starting to, very much. No wonder posh bastards didn’t give a shit about anything when they were living like this.

“...Thank you for helping me earlier.” He said, trying to look both grateful and apologetic. Whether it got through he wasn’t sure, Harry just blinked it off with his usual polite aloofness.

“You’re very welcome. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.” 

Harry nodded, and got up. “I’ll bring your plate up. Go back to bed.”

Eggsy hurried to do the same, stumbling only slightly to the side for balance as he tried to follow Harry out who was dragging pieces of his pride, and the switch to his blushing if Eggsy wanted to take a not-so-wild guess. 

“I can go downstairs, it’s no problem—”

They stopped in the hallway. Or Harry did, And Eggsy latched onto the doorway at the last second to keep himself from walking right into him. Harry gave him an amused glance, looking with furrowed brows at his shaky legs and gestured to the bedroom. “No need, I’ll sort it out. Go on.”

Sighing, Eggsy gave a nod-shrug and dragged his feet all the way. As good as being pampered was, he didn’t want to grow dependent either. He _wouldn’t_ turn out like his mum. He’d rather be a hustler than grow dependent on another and be helpless without them.

He climbed back into bed, tucking the thoughts away while he tucked his legs away underneath the duvet, and rested against the headboard, feeling like a right royal prick. And not for anything he’d done, but just because this was how he imagined how all the posh snobs spent their carefree afternoons when they weren’t attending each other’s boring parties (while he robbed their houses, heh). He thrummed his fingers idly, looking around at the room with a growing sense of familiarity, giving the ceiling its first proper look.

Harry returned with not only a plate, but an entire fucking breakfast tray.

Eggsy opened and closed his mouth, making small exasperated noises to himself as Harry placed it down, a small sneaky smile on his face.

“Thanks, Harry.” Eggsy said, brows crumpled up. This couldn’t be his life. It _couldn’t_ , because he’d never believe it. He’d be living a dream, not a life. 

Harry just smiled down at him through his glasses, giving him a light touch to the shoulder. As he turned Eggsy grabbed his wrist and squeezed it. 

“Thank you.” Eggsy repeated, eyes hard.

Harry turned back, head tilted. “It’s my pleasure, Eggsy.” He said with that clear concise voice, and turned their hands so he had Eggsy’s hand in his own, giving it his own squeeze. “You deserve it.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t.” He didn’t. Harry didn’t know him.

“Because you have a list of offences to your name?” Harry asked without the slightest hint of concern, carrying on before Eggsy could babble. “Why did you do them?”

Eggsy faltered under the question, his entire arm tingling as Harry wriggled his fingers around, giving the tiniest of squeezes. “...I...for the money, but—”

“And for whom?”

“Dean?” Eggsy blurted, confused as to why it mattered or why it would be unclear. Harry raised a single dubious brow, and Eggsy looked away, realising like a slap how wrong he was. He took a breath and wet his lips, looking at the neatly presented and incredible smelling food in front of him. “...For mum and Daisy.” 

“You’ve have a rough few years, forced to worry about things a boy your age shouldn’t have to, but you marched through with admirable determination. You’re here now, giving your future over to another so that your family is better off. I’d say you deserve a lot more for your constant self-sacrifice.”

Self sacrifice. He’d never thought of it that way before. Just...just doing what needed to be done.

“So,” Harry gave his hand one last squeeze before giving it back, putting his own hands away into his pockets. “let someone else look after you for a while. And maybe spoil you a bit.”

The strangest bout of confusion mixed with hope fell over Eggsy. He tucked his hands in his lap beneath the tray and frowned. “...So this ain’t about tryna butter me up for sex?”

Harry walked backwards towards the door. Eggsy nearly got up to follow. Nearly. “Gestures of kindness do exist without the ulterior motive of sex.”

“But y’don’t know me, why would you care what my life was like?”

“Do you need to know someone help them?” Harry asked, just on the broad side of cocky. It didn’t help Eggsy’s frazzled fretting in the least.

“This is different and you know it.” He insisted, ignoring the rude grumbling of his stomach.

Harry didn’t. “Eat before it gets cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your support is marvelous, thank you all!! No seriously, BLESS YOU PEOPLE


	6. You Lift Me Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that so far this fic has been on a daily basis, but next chapter will skip ahead a week or so. Just had to get them settled without rushing anything, as much as my smut-writer self desires to...
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

**Chapter 6: You Lift Me Up**

 

Eggsy woke to sounds. He frowned against them, dragging an arm over his eyes. 

They weren’t very loud; rather he was more awake than he thought he was. His jaws parted and before he knew it he was yawning, stretching and groaning in bliss as his joints popped and his traumatised muscles sang and quivered. The bed was soft and just on the right side of warm, smooth and smelling faintly of Harry. He was too out of it to realise it registered as a familiar scent, and pushed himself up in a graceless heap.

Once up he yawned again, catching flies as he leaned back on his hands. When the yawning subsided he blinked, and spotted Harry over the length of the bed by the wooden drawers, putting his watch on.

Harry looked at him and smiled, looking like he had been up and dressed for hours. “Good morning. Feeling mobile?”

“Hmm.” Eggsy hummed without bothering to check, blinking wearily. He looked around at the room, completely sleep drunk until he yawned again, nearly inhaling everything.

“I’ll see you downstairs.” Harry said. His tone was lost on Eggsy who turned and collapsed face first into the bedding, one arm hanging off the edge of bed.

In the back of his mind Eggsy took note of Harry’s departure, and almost immediately his stomach growled. Mornings now meant good food; his body was getting the hang of this faster than he was. But he was feeling a little optimistic too, surprisingly. He was definitely on a different train than the one he envisioned.

His stomach got him out of bed more than anything else, but the rest of him caught up quickly enough. Or most specifically a certain part of him, a part that had been on the low down since this all started. Yesterday however, it woke up, full-fucking-steam ahead. His underpants tented as he shuffled into the shower, eager to remind him that he hadn’t gotten off in almost a week. He waited until he was covered by the shower curtain, door closed and water rushing loudly before finally taking himself in hand and giving himself a long drawn-out pull.

The sensation was long missed and glorious, sparking through his body like electricity. He groaned and leaned his arm onto the wall, resting his forehead on the back his hand. His eyes were still closed, still trying to harness the energy his lower body seemed to have found. His groin stirred agreeably as he stroked again, then again and again until he was rock hard and aching for release. His hips moved on their own accord, rocking gently to meet his fist. He tried to be quiet, praying the water shrouded the sound of smacking skin because he wasn’t about to slow down; he’d almost forgotten how fucking good this felt. The muscles all along his body shook and squeeze delightfully, his knees buckling and still tender from yesterday.

His arm slid against the wall as he leaned further and further, puffing hot breaths against the tiles in an unnecessary effort stay inaudible. He was a pro at being quiet—his mum and Dean weren’t—so it was one less thing to worry about as he beat off. It was rushed and dirty and oh so good with the shower spraying water down his back like a liquid caress, it’s heat compensating for the missing presence he was getting used to.

As good as the wank was, he couldn’t seem to finish. He shifted and turned, straightened and pulled, sped up and slowed down, but there was just that bit missing. 

Like being quiet he was good at getting off in mere moments, everything in his life was a rush, so being denied that climatic high made his body tense all over again. He’d first thought it was his new surroundings or the fear of being caught, but it was only when he pulled up the face of some pretty nameless girl from one of those Victoria’s Secret billboards did he realise what was bothering him.

Harry. Harry-fucking-Hart was bothering him.

His hand stilled and his heart skipped a beat at the thought of Harry while he had his hand around his prick, and of the promise he made to not step out on him.

Was fantasizing cheating? Clearly it did if his conscience was already throwing him a red light. No wait, that was stupid. Or was it... Fuck, what was he supposed to do with this? Harry didn’t want to fuck him (or simply touch him) because of some gentlemanly reason, so what was Eggsy to do here? He was going to get the most awkward boners if he didn’t manage this somehow and he definitely didn’t want to spring one and have Harry stare him (and his cock) down with that no Eggsy look. 

Nah, fantasies didn’t count. It was just quick wank material. Eggsy would forget what he even thought of as soon as he comes. What Harry didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? But...that wasn’t the point. If he started slacking now, he would eventually slip and get caught doing something wrong and piss off Harry… But fantasies didn’t count. Right? There was nothing wrong with imagining the unnamed girl kneeling between his legs, bobbing her head on his cock over and over as she squeezed at his thighs, harder the faster she went.

Thankfully the image forced a fresh burst of arousal through him, and he moved to rest his forehead against the tiles so he could free his other hand, which he brought down to squeeze at his corresponding thigh the way she would. He started pumping again, swivelling his palm around the tip with a soft moan that didn’t make it past the curtains. Her lips were full and soft, cocooning his length in a sheath of slick pliable heat.

His hunched to grab more of his thigh, pumping in short quick bursts, eyes closed and lips parted. His hips thrust to meet her and she grabbed him harder, digging her short nails into the back of his thigh muscles. Suck, squeeze, suck, squeeze, hand rubbing up to grab at the meat between his arse and his thigh, and down again to curve into the hollow of his knee where it was smooth and sensitive and good, just nice and, and

_“You’ll have to be more specific, my little darling...”_

All of a sudden Harry’s phantom hands were on him, burning right through his skin to the core like a brand. The girl’s face vanished and Harry’s fist took her place, Harry’s chest pressing up against Eggsy’s wet back from behind as he rumbled into his ear. His left hand clawed and squeezed at the spot behind Eggsy’s knee, while the right remained in fluid motion, a hurried messy beating of his straining cock. 

Eggsy came unexpectedly with a small shout. The pleasure was far too great to contain it, seeming in the moment to outweigh any possible embarrassment. He groaned lengthily into the wall, his forehead squeaking against the tile as he fought for balanced while wringing out his trembling orgasm. He didn’t fight the images his mind produced and instead latched onto the feelings from the day before when Harry had massaged him, held him, guided him, everything so innocent yet a hairline fracture from being indecent. 

There was that one bloody moment that wasn’t innocent though, same one Eggsy’s subconscious had held onto, the same one that grabbed him and dragged him under. It was nothing now that he thought of it, a fleeting touch among a massage, but in their case it was (had to be) more and if it could make his body burn like this, how would he have reacted if those hands had indeed gone any higher? He probably would’ve gotten a hard on straight away; it had already been a close call. He probably would have woken up with one too. Oh hell, had he had one this morning? Sprawled out like a fish in Harry’s bed, too conked to realise he had a boner while Harry went about his business apparently unaffected. God, he was so embarrassing...

Rather than ruin his climax the thought of Harry seeing him aroused turned him on further, and he gasped as he finally stopped cumming, hand covered in white and blood burning. He groaned afterwards, for more reasons than he could count, and _thunk_ ed his head against the tile. The area was sensitive from the unusual use and he jerked back, yelping, and as planned decided to forget everything he had just fantasised about. 

He rushed finishing off and climbed out within the next two minutes, scrubbing himself dry with his towel (a chalk blue, Harry’s was a mustard yellow, almost gold) before wrapping it around his waist and heading to the mirror. A shave wasn’t needed yet, and he noticed his face looked…different. Something about it was just a little off. He still looked the same, but not the same. Staring wasn’t helping, so he brushed his teeth and finished up, using one of the deodorants in the cupboards to finish off.

Getting dressed took another while; he had no idea what to wear. He loved everything Harry had bought for him and he wanted to wear it all, but he could logically only choose one outfit for the day. Unless he wanted to be super stuck up and change throughout the day like some snobs did. And he was almost tempted; he really loved his new clothes. The clothes Harry had bought for him—the fucking _jackets_. That…that was really something. Harry was sure to get looks from people on the street if he carted Eggsy around dressed so incredibly different to his own style, and yet he had sniffed out and bought him outfits of his style anyway. It made Eggsy want to keel over and clutch at his chest, whine silently for breath and hide his red cheeks. It was just so fucking _nice_ of him.

So nice that it just strengthened Eggsy’s resolve to do better. He finally had a new kind of path in his life. He wasn’t too sure which way it would go, but he was a grown man and he would just have to figure it out. He was married now, no more messing around and stirring shit, he had to keep up reputation. Harry’s reputation, that was. Maybe his own reputation would take a boost if he started behaving properly, doing stuff a proper _wife_ would do. Yeah. New life as a wife. Life wife. Wife-life. Operation Wife-Life. Had to be easier (and more dignified) than hustling in the streets. He could do this, especially if Harry would be there to reward him with good food and gentle touches, maybe continuing to call him _husband_.

And if things turned for the worst, at least he knew he could handle it. If he could survive Dean, he could survive anyone. He’d lose little from this Dean hadn’t already taken.

 

Eggsy entered the dining area with a skip in his step, Plague jacket on, winged trainers and white cap. Harry greeted him with an ever patient smile, and Eggsy seated himself in his normal chair. They stuck to the same chairs every day, he realised, and he wondered if they’d continue doing so for the rest of their lives.

“Would you like to go grocery shopping with me? I usually have them delivered but a day out would be nice and you can get some personal effects.” Harry said halfway through breakfast, toast and scrambled eggs on their plates.

“Are you tryna say I smell, Harry?” Eggsy teased, shovelling a mouthful of egg into his mouth around sips of _Kingsman_ coffee. The shit was in a custom branded container and everything. 

“I’m trying to say that maybe you would prefer your own brand of cologne and aftershave. Unless you _want_ to smell like me?” Harry added, a twinkle in his eyes as he tilted his head in a way that made him seem unreachable, and yet so intimately _there_. Eggsy was starting to think Harry Hart was a little shit.

Eggsy fumbled over the question as he was sure Harry aimed for, blushing helplessly, but swallowed his mouthful without a problem as he regrouped and squinted on what could be the right answer here. 

“...Is this a trick question? Tell me that at least.”

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose, amused, and took a bite of toast. “We’re going shopping.” He decided. 

Eggsy shrugged. 

“All right. Get me some tampons and whatnot.” He said, and then looked up when Harry didn’t respond. “I’m joking.” He pressed, meaning it. He did miss his own brand of deodorant. He and his mum had packed so fast he hadn’t even thought of it. Although the thought that he had been inadvertently making himself smell like _Harry_ , and not just the brands, made his neck prickle—and not quite unpleasantly.

“Hey um, when we get back can I see the, uh...contract?”

“Sure. Is something the matter?”

“Nah, I just wanted to go through my list of duties. You know. Stuff I agreed to do here other than...all _that_...”

“You truly weren’t listening when Merlin was speaking, were you?”

“Nope.”

Harry sighed to the side and muttered something that sounded like a very frustrated _“Eggsy...”_ , taking a big sip of tea.

“So I figured it was about time I get off my lazy arse and do something.” Eggsy finished with another shrug. Lots of shrugs. His body felt so good today, even with the tiny trembles and echoes.

“If I need something done you can be sure I will ask.” 

“But maybe it would be better if you didn’t have to ask? Like, me taking initiative and stuff?”

This drew a small smile from the older man. “That is a good point, and I appreciate the thought.”

Eggsy leaned forward. “...But...?”

“ _But_ as stated in the contract I’ve asked for nothing specific other than a reasonable degree of your loyalty, compliance, and patience. Your mother was particularly placated with that. I realise now your entertaining of Daisy was quite dedicated.”

“So I’m not bound to do anything in particular?”

“Nope.” Harry said, popping the ‘P’.

Eggsy pouted at his luck. Well, good thing that didn’t come back to bite him. 

“...And if I still want to? D’you want to make a list or something? Like you cook, I clean?”

“That is a good suggestion.”

“You stare, I strip?”

“Not as good.”

“Who does the laundry by the way?” He looked around as if a washing machine would magically appear into the dining room.

“I have a service for that.”

“And cleaning the house?”

“I do that. Being alone doesn’t dust up the place much.”

“Can I do that then? I won’t break anything.”

“All right.”

“Great. What else is there?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

Eggsy sighed, finishing off his toast, and speaking around mouthfuls regardless of the pointed frown Harry threw him until he swallowed. “No won’er ‘ere isn’t a list. ‘kay bu’, look... I wanna do this right. I want...I don’t want you to regret this. I need to learn—” He ended off seriously, shifting to sit a little straighter. He _wanted_ to do this. He needed to. If Harry wasn’t interested in shagging Eggsy as part of his duties then something else needed to be done. Harry could spoil him as much as his weird heart wanted but Eggsy would be damned if he was going to freeload. Harry was making it incredibly difficult, however.

“You’ll grow into it—” Harry started, already with that face that said _everything is all right_. Eggsy was beginning to both love and hate it. Love it for the warm reassurance he had never known, but in the same breath hate it for the falsity. It was just too early to say ‘everything is all right’, Harry could very well come to realise Eggsy wasn’t what he’d thought he’d be, and all his sweet whispered words would mean nothing but heartache to Eggsy. Nothing in this world was for free. _Nothing_. There was always a cost.

Eggsy shrugged a little more aggressively this time, far from upset but still frustrated. 

“Yeah but how? In case you haven’t noticed I didn’t have the best role models to follow and I ain’t some little girl outta finishing school neither so unless you want me to end up like my mum—”

“You won’t,” Harry cut in sharply, the entirety of his face rigid like a stone wall. “That is why I am here.”

As soon as the words were out Harry looked like he’d shocked himself, or possible made a mistake, and Eggsy stared hard in his own shock so to memorize the way the lines on Harry’s face moved should that expression appear again. Harry rarely lost composure. 

It disappeared a sharp moment later and Harry got up, dusting his hands off. “Let’s take that walk, shall we? I know a particularly charming bakery.”

 

It was Saturday morning, so it was no surprise that town was full. Snob town, that was. But they veered through it all in the Kingsman taxi and straight to a large shopping centre. Eggsy had visited it only once when buying his Yoki jacket, and he greedily wondered what else they would find in there.

Harry led the way with a confident gait, seeming to move the crowd with his mere presence, snob or not. And he wasn’t rude either, Eggsy noticed, he would actively say his ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry, ma’am’s when the way became tight. Eggsy followed along right behind him and tried not to ruin the path Harry created with his street swagger.

He had no idea where they were going until they popped into a regular grocery franchise, and Harry was pushing a trolley into his hands.

“Actual grocery shopping?” Eggsy asked as he leaned on the handlebar, trailing after Harry through the aisles. “Doesn’t suit you.”

“Only because I told you I usually have it delivered. Now take whatever you need, tampons are in the next aisle.”

“Was thinking about panty liners, actually.”

“Different function. You’re thinking of pads.”

“You’re the completely bent one and you wanna teach me about vaginas?”

Harry looked down the aisle, eyes widening once at him in warning, but Eggsy just grinned.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were so well versed with female genital hygiene.” Harry drawled, beautifully sarcastic and bland over the topic of _vaginas_.

“I’ve been to school.”

“If you ever have a daughter please do a revision.”

“All right, I get it. Prolly have to do that anyway for Daisy. I mean mum is there but...won’t hurt to have a big brother to call if she needs _pads_ at 2 ‘o clock in the morning.”

“I’ve heard the ones with the wings are most preferred.”

“All right! Got it! Can I fill the trolley now?”

“Please do, darling.”

Eggsy flushed hot, but cocked his head and blinked dramatically as he swung the trolley around and strode off. “ _Thank you, dear_.”

And fill the trolley Eggsy did. If Harry wanted to pretend he had a bottomless bank account then so be it. Every expensive or inane thing Eggsy had ever wanted he threw in—including the SpongeBob bubble bath, and a Minion shower sponge. Because why not? At least he and Harry’s things would never _ever_ get mixed up. On a more serious note he grabbed tins and tins of his favourite deodorants, roll-ons and sprays and happily moved through the men’s department like never before. He got five packs of razors (and one of the fancy electric ones too) along with brushes and cream, bottles of aftershave, a type of Listerine he’d always wanted to try, and an armful of snazzy-looking cologne bottles that he had no idea what they smelt like. Then he went back for more shower sponges to fill each day of the week.

He went through the whole store, throwing more random shit into the trolley, including sweets, magazines, packs of coloured pens and blank exercise books, and literally an armful of discounted ancient DVDs. He needed none of it, but the thrill of having it belong to him _just because_ was too tempting to pass up. He was gonna make the most of this and make mum proud. And probably annoy Harry but he was yet to see any signs of violence. And well, he would clean up whatever mess he made, Operation Wife-Life and all. Also wives apparently loved to shop and fill trolleys, so score.

On the topic of _that_ he stopped halfway down the pet food aisle (because it was fun to look at the pictures on the tins), trying to think of something he should get to aid the mission. Maybe he should’ve gotten lady’s spray? Or perfume or whatever? Oh god, make up? Okay no. Hell no. No to it all. If Harry asked, then he’d worry about it. Until then he would gladly accept Harry’s mercy of calling him husband, assuming he implied all the connotations with it.

Eggsy was just about to heave the trolley out of the aisle when something else popped quite vividly into his head. He hesitated on the thought, but with Operation Wife-Life and the phrase ‘husband’ echoing through his head he pushed the trolley out and around, finding his way towards the personal healthcare aisle. He’d seen Harry last by the fresh produce and he hoped he was still on that end as he scanned the shelves, leg bouncing.

When he finally spotted it he stood on the bottom railing of the trolley for a better look, and scanned the options.

_Original_

_Flavoured_

_Water-based_

_Heating_

_Long lasting_

_For condoms_

Eggsy groaned. Couldn’t there just be one perfected option for lube? He didn’t have the time to stand around debating over each item, especially not by the look the little old lady that hobbled by just shot him. And if Harry caught him there would no doubt be a ‘ _No Eggsy, not that_ ’ comment. God, even his conscience was sounding like Harry now.

But he should do this. Harry said Eggsy would choose when they had sex, didn’t he? And he had conveniently _forgotten_ to get lube. So maybe that was a hint. Eggsy was good with hints. He could just keep it hidden somewhere, be prepared. Nothing wrong with that. Not like it was drugs or anything, even if he was constantly looking both ways down the aisle like a guilty felon. 

Okay no time. He grabbed four different boxes and hid them under the rest of his junk, and ran from the aisle as fast as he could push the overflowing trolley.

After a minute of searching he found Harry by the wine section talking with two unknown, similarly clothed men. Harry spotted at him before he could swing the trolley back around and dawdle somewhere else, and raised a hand to beckon him in. Eggsy sighed through his nose and trudged forward, letting Harry take his shoulder and gesture towards them.

“Arthur, Mycroft, please meet my new husband, Gary. Gary, these are old friends and colleagues of mine.”

“Nice to meet you, young Mr. Hart.” the taller, younger stranger said, nose still pointed up even at his superior height.

The elderly man, Arthur, nodded briefly as if to say _hmm yes what he said_ and gave Eggsy a smile that Eggsy was a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t have gotten if Harry had addressed him as anything else. Actual snobs it seemed, dressed up and hair slick back, carting their own umbrellas. 

And suddenly, somehow with these men to judge against, Eggsy could see how much of a snob Harry _wasn’t._

“...And you.” Eggsy said, giving them as respectful a nod he could manage as he squeezed the handlebar of his trolley. _Wife-Life_ , he reminded himself.

“I’ll be just a bit.” Harry said to him.

“Can I start paying in the mean time?” Anything but having to listen to rich-people problems. 

“Of course.”

Harry handed him a sleek black card from some hidden pocket like a magician, and Eggsy took it with a smile more genuine but strained than the last, face heating with Harry’s friends staring at him that he ought to be standing a metre from their shadows. 

He could only imagine what they were thinking with Eggsy dressed like a punk that Harry plucked off the streets, buying a load of junk at Harry’s apparent apathetic expense. They were probably imagining all the dirty things Harry would be doing to him later. Maybe Harry would tell them himself like men often did when out having beers, detailing their latest fucks. Snobs were definitely not exempted of that, he was fucking certain. Their stories probably just included silk beds, champagne and tall jewellery draped women instead of dirty pubs and loose drug-addicted women.

Eggsy swivelled and hurried off as soon as he could. It was a lucky break, and he shoved the lube towards the person behind the cash register before anything else. She was a young lady, probably about twenty and really working that gothic vibe. Incredibly pretty though, and she raised a brow at him as she scanned the items.

“Should get some Es with this.” She said after the last one, reaching for the rest of his stuff.

“What?” he blurted, almost dropping his armful of sprays.

“You know. Relax the muscles. Send you to the clouds.”

He looked at her like she had just suggested that he go back and buy a truckload of bright pink lipstick.

“Just saying…” She drawled. “Old guys are weird.”

He immediately looked back, snapping his head side to side for Harry. “What did you say? How—”

“I see everyone come in from here?” she gestured his People magazine to the front entrance, which was right by her till.

“Oh. Oh. Do you judge all your customers?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

He pouted, taking the compliment, but it quickly morphed back into a frown. “D’you see my old guy a lot?”

“Not really.”

“…Elaborate?” he pressed, watching her scan his items like a chef at a sushi bar.

“What? I’ve seen him here like only twice before. Usually talks to other old guys.”

“Has he ever had like, another person with him?”

“Like a young person like you?” she asked directly, making him blink sarcastically.

“Yeah. Like me.”

“No. Didn’t think he had kids.”

Eggsy laughed and jerked back, making a disgusted sound. “You just implied he was a creepy old fuck that was gonna fuck me!” 

The girl, _April_ , said her name tag, glanced around at the people looking at them, and shrugged, smiling down at the products.

“I dunno. Old guys are creepy.”

Shaking his head, Eggsy bit his lip against the laughter and helped her get the last of his items. He whistled when he saw the bill, shared a fake wince with her and handed over Harry’s card with two fingers like he was a millionaire.

“His surname is Hart?” she snorted, shoving him a slip to sign.

“Yep, and I stole it.”

“With your heart-shaped butt.”

“What? I don’t have a—do I? Great, thanks for that. Now I’m gonna be—fucking checking—”

April laughed as he twisted, trying to see his backside even if the angle was all wrong. He shot her exaggerated hate-faces as she packed his things away. He heaved them back into the trolley, there was no way he or Harry would manage to carry it out.

“Thank you and come again. If you can, after going through all that lube...” She taunted, tone dry and the complete opposite to what customer service should be.

Eggsy however, grinned widely and winked, deciding he would come by again just to see her. “Watch me. I won’t even use any Es.”

“I’m here bored all week.”

Eggsy grinned all the way out, driving the trolley into a corner just outside the doors where he waited for Harry. He glanced periodically at his phone in case the man didn’t find him but barely five minutes later Harry arrived, giving the full trolley a slightly exasperated look.

“Do you need help?”

“Nah, I got it.”

Harry inclined his head in a way that said _if you say so_ , and led the way off.

“Are we getting a suit for me from somewhere here?” Eggsy asked as he looked into all the passing stores, allowing Harry to guide the front of the trolley to save people’s toes.

“God no. A proper tailor should and would have their own establishment.”

“So you got place in mind then? Like where you get yours?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Where to now?”

“Now home.”

Eggsy pouted. “Already?”

Harry held open the glass door to the parking lot. “Yes, but then out again. We can’t cart all of this to the tailor.”

Eggsy perked up and shoved the trolley through. “Wait, we’re going today?”

“Is that all right?”

“Sounds good.” 

They located their taxi and the man hurried out to help them. Or, help Harry rather who shooed Eggsy back so he and the driver could put all his bags into the boot.

“What on Earth did you buy?” Harry asked after the tenth bag.

Eggsy shrugged shamelessly, leaning on the trolley with a strange sense of satisfaction. “Everything. A box of tampons might _actually_ have gotten in there.”

“You’re packing it all away.”

“I know.” Oh he definitely would, he had four boxes of lube in there to hide.

Eggsy was getting used to the taxi story. It was nice not to have to walk everywhere and he didn’t feel awkward anymore, sitting besides Harry and behind the driver. When they got home he helped the two older men cart everything back inside in the hallway, a recipe for disaster, but Harry didn’t seem too fussed. Once the door was locked they climbed back in and took off again.

Eggsy didn’t realise what was odd until he saw the name on the windows of Harry’s apparent tailor, which was literally on the opposite side of the block from the Kingsman Agency. He floundered as they got out, waving a hand. 

“Kingsman? But—”

“Being a match-making service it’s only fitting it provides suits should their customers desire a formal ceremony, don’t you think?”

Eggsy pulled his lips, nodding. “That makes sense.”

“It’s a little presumptuous for my taste but they make excellent suits.”

“Do they offer babies for adoption too?”

“Let’s focus on you for a while, yes?”

Eggsy laughed. “All right.”

Harry ushered him in first, holding the door open with a handsome smile. There was no avoiding the blush and Eggsy looked away with a shake of his head and tried instead to contain his grin, shoving his hands into his pockets, practically _feeling_ the smile of Harry’s on the back of his head.

The Kingsman tailor shop was pretty much what he could expect, and politely matched the other side of the establishment. Neat with an earthy sophistication, filled with expensive fabrics and warm colours. 

“Now, the first thing every gentleman needs is a good suit. By which I mean a bespoke suit. Never off the peg.” Harry said as he followed Eggsy in and came around, running his hands lightly over the available material. “And Kingsman suits are always made with the finest materials so whether or not you wear it often you’ll have a lasting and useful momento of your ties with Kingsman.”

Just as Harry reached for the nearest door, the elderly man behind the counter spoke. “I’m so sorry sir, but a gentleman is completing his fitting. Fitting room two is available.”

“One does not use fitting room two when one is popping one’s cherry.”

Eggsy snorted and looked at the elderly man, thoroughly amused, more so when the man smiled naughtily, making Eggsy’s face heat up like clockwork. Harry, on the side, looked just as amused and somewhat pleased with himself. He was definitely a little shit, Eggsy had not seen that coming.

“Perhaps I’ll show you fitting room three while we wait.” He amended, passing by Eggsy with a silent cue for him to follow. 

They filed into fitting room three, and Eggsy stood staring at their reflections as Harry closed the door behind them, leaving them completely alone.

Harry came to stand behind him, as composed and formal as ever, making Eggsy feel out of place in his Adidas.

“What do you see?” Harry suddenly asked.

“Someone who wants to know what the fuck we’re gonna do in here.”

“I thought young people liked to hide in small, highly suggestive places.”

“Yeah, if suggestive stuff is actually gonna happen. We ain’t very good at teasing and not squeezing. Wild hormones and all.”

Harry smiled, looking into his own reflection. “I think I might remember such a thing from my own youth.”

Eggsy stared at him through the mirror, noting how close they were, noting Harry hands tucked away in his pockets. Always tucked away, as if they would run wild if not contained. 

“…Can I ask how old you are?”

“Want to guess?”

“...No.”

Harry took a moment. “I’m fifty one this year.”

Not entirely surprising. Eggsy nodded. “Cool. So you were like twenty…”

“Twenty eight when you were born.”

“Sounds weird when you say it like that. But sexy too, to be honest.” Eggsy’s mouth lifted in a smile without his permission, his eyes glued to Harry’s face as he word-vomited. “Everyone’s got a bit of a daddy kink in ‘em somewhere. I had it bad for them MILFs when I was like seventeen.”

Harry cocked a suggestive brow and a crooked smile. “There is certainly something to be said for older women.”

“Have you been with a woman before?” More word-vomit.

“Yes, I have. More than once, if it surprises you.” 

“Was that before or after you knew?”

“After. I knew rather early on. You always notice what is denied to you. Though I certainly don’t regret it.” Harry paused, mouth and brows tightening. “Though now I feel bad for taking that chance from you.”

Eggsy pursed his lips, then shrugged it off with a reassuring wink. “I’ll live. Would prolly live better if you filled that gap some time but…” he trailed off, meaning to be playful and suggestive when the context registered. Eggsy turned to face him directly, hands coming up out his own pockets. “But like, not as a woman, just, in general. I mean like you—I—…er…”

Harry just smiled at him. 

“What?” Eggsy asked, feeling suddenly as if he was on the world’s largest podium.

“You’re handling yourself much better. I’m glad.” He sounded so fucking _proud_ , Eggsy almost didn’t know how to reply. 

He shrugged twice, shaking his head for a few moments until he gave up and looked down at his shoes, so completely different in comparison to Harry’s. “Well, you not what I expected, so…”

“I can only imagine what you expected.” Harry said, looking sympathetic when Eggsy peeked.

“If you was imagining Shrek on drugs running a mafia then you’s on the right track.”

Harry chuckled. “That is definitely on the other end of the spectrum.”

“You’re better than I could’ve ever hoped.” It came out before he knew it, and it was as sincere as it was true. He exhaled and let the rest slip out, suddenly too close to Harry’s person. “And… _I’m_ glad.” 

“Gratitude looks nice on you...” Harry murmured after a silent moment, staring intensely at him in those swift brushes that left Eggsy grasping for reason. There was a certain _something_ left hanging in the air, and Eggsy shivered as it dawned heavily on him what Harry had been about to say, settling in his gut warmly.

“...Didja wanna call me something?” he breathed, daring Harry to utter any form of _no_. The air was suddenly steaming, Eggsy was tempted to look at the mirror to find it fogging, but there was an entire universe in Harry’s eyes and he wasn’t going to let it escape him when Harry was humouring him for once, letting a guilty sliver of something definitely not gentlemanly glide across his face.

Someone knocked on the door. Eggsy jumped out of the reverie, glaring heatedly at the disturbance. He very nearly grabbed Harry’s traitorous arm when he reached for the doorknob and opened it, raising the most casual expression to the shop assistant. 

“So sorry, sirs. Fitting room one is now available.”

Harry looked at Eggsy, perfectly at ease and making Eggsy’s blood pressure soar. “Come on.”

 

The process of being measured seemed to take forever in Eggsy’s opinion, but maybe that was because his mind was elsewhere. He didn’t have to focus much, thank god, and just followed Harry’s and the tailor’s instructions when the tape measure was whipped out. Ten measurements if he heard correctly, trying to keep still and calm his racing heart as Harry and the tailor discussed his suit. He knew absolutely nothing to be able to contribute so he gladly kept his mouth shut, trusting Harry’s judgement by now, belatedly remembering his current mission. 

Long after he was allowed to shuffle aside Harry and the man discussed the design, fabrics and colour and resistance, whatever that meant.

Finally, it was over, and Eggsy nodded goodbye to the man in the front as Harry led them out onto the street.

“I’m starving.” Eggsy said immediately, stomach backing him up with a soft rumble. It was all Harry’s fault, it was. Eggsy had learnt how to go for long periods with eating little, but now he was going to lose that skill in no time.

Harry hummed. “Which reminds me, bakery.”

“Awesome. Lead the way.” 

 

“Holy shit! This is so good!”

“And not too far if you feel like a walk.”

The bakery in question was just around the corner, a tiny but extremely cosy and detailed place. It was all wooden with deep reddish browns, pot plants and cute table clothes that Michelle would go barmy over. Harry greeted the staff as he chose their table, allowing Eggsy to seat himself in front of all the people already watching them. Eggsy didn’t quite blame them, he and Harry must’ve made for an odd pair.

Any concerns, however, fell away when their orders arrived, and Eggsy ploughed his way through two Chelsea Buns and a helping of Swiss Roll without a care in the world.

“Fuck, ‘arry, I’mma ge’ fat. We gotta go back t’gym t’morr’.” He said around mouthfuls and gulps of breaths.

“Sure. You look better today.” Harry noted in amusement, sipping his coffee after a bite of some tart he ordered.

“Loads. Fuck.”

“Eggsy, this is a family establishment.” 

Eggsy looked around, the image of a feasting hamster as he blinked at the people around them, at least a toddler somewhere in the crowd. “Shi’. I mean, sorry. Jus’ so good.”

“Better than my cooking?”

Eggsy looked up sharply, recognising the very convenient (and genuine) moment to compliment his _husband_. 

“No. Never in a million years.” He added with another wink, fighting to keep his lips closed and chewed food hidden as Harry most certainly changed colour.

One of the helpful waiters handed Harry the paper and refilled their drinks, leaving Eggsy to peek at his phone. As usual it was quiet (he was seriously considering contacting his mates, they were either out of their minds with worry or had found his mum and she told them the happy news in the most awkward way possible...), and he leaned his elbows on the table, finishing off his cakes slower now.

Harry seemed perfectly content with reading the paper, and Eggsy quickly—too quickly—became bored. He tried staring at Harry, at first to irritate his attention back his way, then just to look at him because he was finding new and attractive angles to his face. He tried thrumming his fingers on the table, making a beat with their tea spoons, and then pulled his tongue at the toddler. 

The thing that finally drew Harry’s rigid attention was done completely by accident, but it was impossible to miss as they both tensed up. It was a simple mistake, a simple collision in the most technical terms, but knocking someone’s foot under the table was always one of those awkward things if not planned. And this one definitely hadn’t been planned. But Eggsy caught on quick, and a salacious grin spread across his face as Harry stiffened, fluffed out his pages and continued reading.

Eggsy shifted into prime position, elbows still on the table, far from subtle, and nudged Harry’s shoe with his own. Despite the fact that there was absolutely no contact of skin it still felt like a static jolt, and Eggsy had to steady his leg to keep from pulling back as Harry remained as still as stone. 

A little twist of his foot and Eggsy slid the tip of his trainer along and up the side of Harry’s shoe, the right foot if he was correct, and stared at Harry over the newspaper. He could’ve been insensate for all Eggsy knew.

Shifting a little, lower body forward, Eggsy lifted his foot over, careful not to run the dirty heel of his shoe over Harry’s and gave a pointed nudge to the other side. He had his bottom lip between his teeth, cheeks just about popping as he lifted and reached Harry’s ankle. Immediately he rubbed up and down, pressing lightly for a more teasing affect.

But Harry was a statue, moving only to turn the page and sip his coffee.

Eggsy pouted like a child denied of the cookie jar and shifted again so he could slide his foot up a little more, pressing and wriggling it against Harry’s calf—and suddenly he was clawing at the table for balance, nearly toppling over as something grabbed and yanked on his leg. The entire room looked at him as he choked out a garbled curse, and when he was sure he wouldn’t fall off his seat he looked wildly at Harry. Said man had his paper down and an unimpressed expression up, tilted just slightly and giving the impression that…

“ _What the fuck_?” Eggsy rasped as he peeked under the table cloth, Harry’s legs folded and clamped around his wandering limb in an unbreakable and insanely nimble position.

“Family establishment.” Harry reminded softly, as if his legs weren’t currently curled around Eggsy’s under the table like a snake.

“I was just playing.” Eggsy said, exhaling his shock. He tugged a little but Harry had him good. He needed to learn that hold.

“I thought we were making some good progress.”

Eggsy blinked. “We are?” 

Harry didn’t respond, staring at him in that way he did when he apparently disapproved. Still he didn’t release his leg.

“I was—it was just for a laugh. I was bored and you was busy. People do that. I used to bug my mum at breakfast all the time, knocking her feet and all. I mean not like this, but—this is—it was—I was just playing.”

He seemed to win Harry over. The older man’s expression softened and he finally parted his legs. Eggsy sat up quickly, shaking his foot out and peeking beneath the table again as if he’d find something strange, but there was only Harry, who threw one leg over the other and downed the last of his coffee.

“People do that…” Eggsy found himself mumbling, feeling weird, like the world’s stupidest criminal caught robbing a cop in a police station.

He didn’t expect Harry to nudge his knee with the tip of his suspended foot, face soft and apologetic. 

“People do that.”

 

Harry took mercy on him soon after and took him home. They walked rather than call the taxi back, sharing only a few words here and there. It was a comfortable walk though, and Eggsy took the chance to properly memorize where they lived.

They parted when they got home, Harry into the kitchen and Eggsy to sort out the shopping. Anything Harry had bought he left in the kitchen and the rest he carried upstairs to sort in privacy. Soon it became clear he had over done it with the shopping, but he wouldn’t dare throw anything away without trying it first. So he stacked and put away his things as neatly as possible, smelling the colognes and flipping through the magazines. He hung only one shower sponge in the bathroom, a grey one, and stashed the rainbow-handful in one of his bags under the bed.

Putting the lube away came last. There was little other place to put stuff and this was Harry’s house—Eggsy didn’t know its secret places and where or where not Harry usually dug. So after pacing a hole in the bedroom carpet he ended up back on his knees, stuffing the lube into his bag and covering them with the rest of his newly found luxury and copious sponges. Harry did not seem like the snooping type and even if he did Eggsy was sure the myriad of sponges would throw him off. And then even if he did still find the lube, well, Eggsy was doing that thing called initiative. Their marriage was not going to remain unconsummated forever. That wasn’t marriage and he would be genuinely terrified of why Harry had bought him in the first place. Any reason other than sex automatically rang the psycho alarm. Eggsy would much rather be fucked dry for twenty-four hours a day than cut open and sold in pieces on the black market.

Satisfied with his spy work Eggsy got up and looked around, smiling at the very _Eggsy_ additions to the room. Not his style, mind you, but just new tiny things that helped to pave the foundation that this was his room now too. His home. His stupid SpongeBob bubble bath sitting on the shelf in the bathroom. His empty books to write and draw nonsense in on one of his favourite chairs downstairs. His custom deodorant sitting in his bedside drawers. His clothes hanging in the wardrobe next to Harry’s.

He had things that belonged to him and only him; Harry wouldn’t even want to take them from him. And he knew deep down, beneath the suspicion, Harry wouldn’t take anything even if he wanted to. He’d given Eggsy things instead…He’d given it all to him. Although, in that sense, it was all Harry’s stuff, technically. And so was Eggsy. 

He was Harry’s. 

He’d said so himself, yesterday morning when he was loopy in the tub, coming apart in Harry’s hands. And it was okay. So far he couldn’t complain, but at least back home everything he had he had worked for, whether it was getting good grades or selling his entire supply. Back home where he was never comfortable except when hiding in his room with Daisy. Back home where he belonged to mum and Daisy. Back home where he owed nothing to anyone. Back home where he had little but it was all his…

 

“Are you all right? You seem a bit glum.” Harry asked long after they had started eating, lamb chops, mash and peas. Eggsy had noticed his glancing but ignored it, hoping his demolishing of the food would distract him.

“Yeah, no, I’m good.” He said, shrugging. “Just thinking about home… Didn’t think I’d ever miss it. Never really missed it when I was in the Marines.”

“It wasn’t permanent with the Marines.”

“Yeah. Just feels funny all of a sudden.”

Harry hummed in consideration. “Being homesick is common.”

Eggsy shrugged, then waved his forked around. “How long have you lived here?”

“Pushing twenty-seven years now.”

“Think you’ll ever move?”

“No, not really. Do you think we should?”

“Nah, I like the house. Better than those big old haunted ones with a million doors and corners for things to come out of.”

Harry chuckled. “Curious priorities.”

“Oi, how the fuck d’ya fight a ghost? A person yeah, but a spook?”

“The dead can’t hurt you, Eggsy. It’s the living you need to watch out for.” And there he went with that serious tone again. 

Eggsy pursed his lips. “I can handle myself plenty.”

“Are you sure?”

“Better than you I reckon, and I ain’t exaggerating. I’ve been there.” He said, trying to convey vaguely how many fist fights he’d been in—not even counting Dean’s confrontations. He could take a hit like a fucking champ, and he wasn’t too shabby at giving as good as he got. It clicked that his comment might be a bit rude, but it was honest and he didn’t want to retract it. At least if anyone ever tried to mess with them he could save Harry some temporary trauma and injury.

Harry answered after a moment, sipping his wine with a certain casualty about him, like he had something to say, but would say another thing anyway. “As long as you’re sure. Just remember there is no shame in running if you need to. Pride and misconceptions of masculinity are not worth being hospitalised or killed.”

“I get you.” Eggsy nodded. He ate a little more, nose crinkling at the new cologne smell rubbed on his hand clashing with the scent of food. “Was a nice day today.”

“It rather was. You’re going to look quite charming in your suit.”

Eggsy snorted into his wine. “You hate my normal clothes, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say _hate_ …”

“Oh please, like you never dressed up when you was young. I bet you was worse! They dressed funny back in the day.”

Harry smiled a telling smile. “Perhaps I have a couple years to pick on.”

Eggsy grinned and leaned forward. “No way. You got photos?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? Can I see?”

“One day.”

“Aw, come on! I been good, yeah?”

“So, what did you get today?”

Eggsy groaned loudly and dramatically and sat back against his seat like the teenager he never got to be. “Jus’ stuff I always wanted...” He droned, bored with it most of it already. Although he was interested in playing with the lube, he’d never had any of his own before. It had always just been regular condoms—oh, great… He’d forgotten to buy condoms. Should he have bought…? They were married and he couldn’t get pregnant, so that should be a no, but he still had no real idea of why Harry wasn’t bedding him. Condoms were always a good thing to keep, he always used to have on him before signing up at Kingsman. He’d have to just get some. Maybe go back to visit April and see if scandalising her was possible.

“What?” Harry asked, eyes roaming. Eggsy quickly smoothed out his face.

“Nothing. Dinner was great, thanks. I’ll clean up, yeah?”

“Okay. Come join me for a drink when you’re done.”

Eggsy did the dishes with enthusiasm and gusto. It felt good to do a chore on his own, prove he was useful in some way, and show his appreciation for everything this bright new day had brought. It was almost like he was living Christmas day over and over it—a Christmas from his childhood, of course, back when they were still special and untainted, where red didn’t mean blood and white didn’t mean cocaine—or worse, cum.

He didn’t rush and took it seriously, making sure Harry’s dishes were spotless and the dining area like new. His belly was pleasantly full and he just wanted to curl up now and sigh happily.

When he was done he sought out Harry and accepted a glass of whiskey, and sat himself in a chair next to Harry’s. He sighed into the sip, eyes squeezing a little at the burn of the fluid but his body eased into the firm hold of the armchair.

The silence was easy and soothing, but completely alien to the sounds Eggsy was used to. He was almost glad when Harry broke the silence, gesturing to the stack of DVDs sitting on the coffee table.

“Interesting choices. Rather random.”

“I just grabbed whatever was there. Was going for really cheap.” Everything he’d gotten he could steam or download, but he hadn’t thought of it at the time. Oh well, he liked subtitles.

“Do you like films?”

“Yeah. Never got around to watching though. I was always out and Dean owned the telly so…”

Harry regarded him for a moment, one in which Eggsy was about to frown and quip that it wasn’t tragic and he didn’t need his pity, but then he spoke. 

“Would you like to watch something before bed?”

Eggsy blinked in surprise, a funny feeling zipping through his chest. He pointed a shy random finger from the hand holding his glass. “With you?” he asked, brows knitted.

“Only if you’d like the company. If not that’s quite—”

“No, I do. That would be cool. We watch in bed?” Eggsy sat up a little, finding the funny little feeling crawling deeper through his chest at the thought. When last had he sat and watched a movie with someone, _anyone_? He’d sit sometimes during breakfast watching some random cartoon that was on for Daisy but that was about it. The idea suddenly seemed so…so…

Harry finished his glass and got up decisively. “Yes. You choose the film. I’ll shower first, and make us a snack when you’re in.”

Eggsy laughed weakly. “How _do_ you keep fit?”

Harry shot him an egotistical smile that was just so random and out of character that Eggsy laughed again. 

“I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“All right. We watchin’ on the laptop?”

“Yes, we can use this one.”

“Okay.”

Eggsy grabbed the bunch of DVDs as soon as Harry headed upstairs, his entire body hot for reasons he couldn’t understand. Maybe it’s because he linked film-nights with dates. Maybe it was that stupid smile Harry left with. Maybe it was the thought of gym tomorrow and this time working out with Harry. Maybe it was the thought of choosing a bad movie and boring Harry to death—or possibly one with a huge awkward sex scene.

Thankfully all of the movies were family rated, but that left a lot lacking his attention. He flipped through them a dozen times, already set on throwing (or giving) most away, before settling on the one that caught his eye most—a British film about a secret agent spy. It definitely didn’t look the part but one of the actor’s names rang a bell somewhere in his head, it was apparently a comedy and at least it wasn’t about talking animals or clichéd family reunions.

He jogged upstairs with it and the house laptop and idled on the bed for a few minutes as he waited for Harry to finish, realising at one stage that Harry was in there completely naked and wet. And the last time Eggsy had been in there completely naked and wet he remembered what he had done, so who’s to say Harry wasn’t doing the same? After all he had to get off at some time, he was a healthy man despite his age. Unless he had some actual problems, which made Eggsy realise he ought to definitely stop poking at the sex topic in case it opened a can of worms.

Harry was out in no time, dressed in navy blue pyjamas and looking refreshed. They exchanged minimal words as they swopped places, and Eggsy hurried his shower. He used his new sponge and scrubbed until he was clean but left out any dawdling, drying off haphazardly. He was weirdly excited, and he didn’t even want to know why.

When he finally stumbled back into the room, as fresh as a daisy, Harry was already in bed, eyes on the laptop on his lap. He looked up and gave Eggsy a strange smile that made him slow down, something reassuring yet intimate as if he knew what was playing on Eggsy’s nerves. 

Eggsy made an effort to be calm—nothing was going to happen. Harry was serious on his no-shagging thing for whatever reason and their days together so far had been damn near perfect. There was no reason to spoil it by losing his shit over this. Operation Wife-Life wasn’t about sex, it was about becoming someone new and improved to be able to fit into his new life, into Harry’s life. Married people watched films together in bed all the time, it was not sexual. 

It was intimate. 

Still, Eggsy couldn’t control everything and his heart was one of them. It raced regardless, but he got in bed without hassle after switching the light off and sidled up besides Harry who had put extra pillows stuffed up against the headboard for them. His heart skipped a beat when his shoulder and arm touched Harry’s but he pretended otherwise, pulling the covers over his thighs as Harry held the lap top up, then placed it down over one of each of their knees. 

Harry shifted here and there, asking if he was comfortable, and they settled well enough, Eggsy’s heart slowly but surely calming. It was so stupid, he’d been playing fucking footsie earlier but he was getting nervous now. 

“So, Austin Powers? Interesting choice...” Harry asked as he brought the DVD forward, opening the case.

“You seen it?” Eggsy asked, wincing minutely as Harry slipped the disk in.

“When it first came out.”

“Any good?”

“Depends on your sense of humour, I suppose. It’s a parody film of the Bond franchise.”

“Oh. Don’t think I ever saw those. I mean I know the basic but…”

“You can still watch this. It won’t ruin anything.”

Harry didn’t seem put off by the choice, so Eggsy nodded and settled back.

As it turned out the film was utter crack. He could definitely see the James Bond in it, but holy fuck, he got a work out just from laughing. It was such a simple and downright silly production and yet brilliant. He couldn’t decide which character tickled him most and he loved all the dirty humour. He loved all the colours and wild terrible outfits but the part where Austin blew up the fembots’ heads with his embarrassing dancing killed Eggsy for the night, he couldn’t stop the laughter after that at every little thing. But what made it all perfect was Harry’s constant soft chuckles and relaxed posture. 

The movie passed by smoothly thanks to the theme, Eggsy couldn’t have chosen a better one to lighten the mood (even with the many suggestive scenes), and by the end of it they were both at least two heads down into the bedding, legs and arms pressed snugly together. Some time through Harry handed him a bowl with pudding and Eggsy nearly purred, before choking on his mouthful at the name ‘Alotta Fangina’.

It was warm and cosy and just so damn perfect that there had to be a catch. His heart knew it. But he had come to know otherwise in his time with Harry and giggled himself sick as Harry put the disk back into its case and put off the laptop.

“That was mad funny! Fuckin’ hell! I take it back. Unless y’dressed like that then ya fine.” He said, wiping his tears. He was practically lying against Harry, closer than they had ever gotten in this bed, and he felt entirely at ease. He hummed, a goofy smile on his face and let his eyes roam the ceiling. “Gentleman spy…now that’s gotta be a cool job.”

“Not all that glitters is gold, my dear.” Harry said, again with that school professor seriousness as he put the laptop aside.

Eggsy looked up at him, remaining where he was as Harry fiddled with his pillows to get a little more comfortable. They were definitely closer than usual, every movement Harry made meant he brushed against Eggsy. Harry didn’t move away, curiously, and casually continued. It reassured the trust building in Eggsy rather than shake it.

“What could be wrong with being an international spy? Adventure, money, pretty girls, the fast life.”

Harry, still sitting up, looked down at him, appearing forlorn from the angle. “That doesn’t mean you won’t have a lot to lose. Time for bed.” 

Eggsy didn’t know what it was that made him sit up and touch Harry’s arm. 

Maybe it was the way Harry was looking at him, like he was feeling some kind of private remorse. Maybe it was the way he slid his glasses off his nose, the movement strikingly debauch. Maybe it was just the darkness of the room battling with the light from the street, casting a weak glow across Harry’s sage face. Maybe it was something in the pudding. But Harry stilled and waited, looking patiently into his eyes as Eggsy hesitated.

“…Harry...”

“Yes?”

“...A goodnight’s kiss?” 

It came out like a secret, the atmosphere alien, and he held his breath a long moment until Harry’s stoic expression flickered, ever so slightly, as if to allow him to breathe. Then Harry moved an inch closer with a simple lean, and Eggsy lost his lungful again. 

“…Have you been kissed before?” Harry asked quietly, like they were hiding in a cupboard in a monastery. 

“Yeah.” Eggsy breathed, and licked his drying lips. “Sorry.” He added, shivering as Harry’s eyes followed his tongue. 

“No, that’s better.” Harry murmured, tilting his head eerily as he looked over all of Eggsy’s face. “I don’t want to take everything from you.”

“You haven’t taken a thing.”

Harry visibly bit the inside of his lip. He left Eggsy hanging on a burning precise, another minute longer of labouring breaths and invaded proximity until he spoke again, voice firmer and louder. 

“Hold still.” 

Eggsy became a statue. He couldn’t even breathe as Harry seemed to have a little internal debate. Then man made up his mind with a little twitch to his left cheek, and he leaned in agonisingly slow. Eggsy’s skin felt drawn tight as he waited, staring with the power to burn a hole through diamond as Harry finally, painstakingly descended, and completely missed Eggsy’s lips. 

Harry kissed him on the cheek.

Not on the corner of his mouth where Eggsy could turn and complete it, but in the soft plush of his cheek that reminded Eggsy of—devastatingly—something his mother would do.

Harry made it last but kept it infuriatingly innocent, before he pulled back, taking Eggsy very soul with him—and it hurt in every possible sense of being alive. Eggsy whimpered verbally, and dug his fingers into Harry’s arm before he could pull away entirely. Harry stopped instantly and frowned a concerned frown, but it wasn’t the look Eggsy needed right now.

He didn’t know what to say, lips moving uselessly, trying to convey the scramble in his brain. His feelings hadn’t yet translated into words and he struggled to convey that as well rather than imitating a fish. Harry was so close, so patient, waiting on him as he had since the moment he had signed himself over.

Eggsy jumped off the cliff, knowing full well his actions, but he wanted the rush. He tightened his hand one last time to ground himself, then turned his face away, hiding his eyes, but pointedly bared the expanse of his neck.

He felt Harry stiffen, but he did not move away, and Eggsy prayed it meant he understood what he was asking for. He was breathing hard through his nose knowing he’d sound completely indecent if he opened his mouth instead, swallowing constantly to keep his throat from drying out as he sat tense, ready to hit the ground hard, or break the surface of crashing waves into calm engulfing depths.

Harry led him over water, and leaned in with intent. 

Eggsy’s eyes slid shut as Harry leaned into his person and paused for just one crucial moment, his breath tickling the space behind Eggsy’s ear. The heat was tangible even without physical contact other than what Eggsy had on Harry’s arm, enough to drag Eggsy close to be brink of sweating, heart in his throat and lungs burning.

Then Harry gave in and pressed into his neck, lips against his pulse point as if Harry was an expert of anatomy, and Eggsy died a little inside.

Like the first time it lasted longer than a fleeting moment, longer than all the little flirts Harry dangled his way. It was like a long lasting electric jolt, tingling moment after moment beneath his skin as Harry kissed his neck— _his throat_ , lips warm and firm, heavy against his heartbeat like that of one body draped across another. Then his lips moved once more, a second scorching kiss, nose pressed below his ear, and Eggsy moaned brokenly.

All Eggsy could think was that if Harry had pushed him down and climbed on top of him he would have let him. His blood was burning, his cock stiffening and his body taunt, ready for action. 

But his mind knew better, and it gladly took a large helping of solace when Harry pulled away like predicted and shifted one space over to his side of the bed.

Eggsy couldn’t even look at him. He knew if he did he would do something embarrassing, whether it was to hide like a child or straddle him or simply stare at the enigma that was Harry. He let Harry go without being prompted, his entire body vibrating, and lowered himself slowly back down onto his back, and finally cracked his eyes open to stare at the ceiling through murky waters.

“Good night, Eggsy.” Harry said after a moment, sounding the smallest bit softer than usual if Eggsy’s sudden acute hearing was correct. But all Eggsy could think was that ‘darling’ would have had a better ring to it.

“Nigh’, Harry...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u ppl r da best ohkei cum'on groop huhg


	7. Rumble Rumble Wring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears. I’d like to take a moment to say that as this story has progressed, a back-story has been settled and it slightly dampens the mail-order bride kink. I’ve altered a couple tags so not to be misleading, and I apologise for it. I can’t say more because spoilers, but nothing in the story itself has changed, only what one would entirely expect reading a mail-order-bride fic. 
> 
> I had honestly intended for a simple fic of that theme, but alas, stories tend to write themselves. It’s turned out more complicated than one-two-three, and I’d rather stick to the flourished background than force this into a one-dimensional piece. But don’t panic, I will try to make up the lost expectations as best I can in this AU <3
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

**Chapter 7: Rumble Rumble Wring**

_Two weeks later~_

Eggsy’s new life was a fairy tale story.

The best comparison he found was from _My Fair Lady_ , which knocked him over because that had been one of the few movies he’d actually watched and enjoyed through the years.

He hated thinking of his life as a fairy tale, but it was true. Terribly true, making him cringe and rub his forehead even though no one could hear his thoughts. He’d done the whole ‘rags-to-riches’ thing without even trying. He had been perfectly content with his life (cue sarcasm) and riding it down the drain pipe. He hadn’t asked for this, or begged or struggled or gone through some epic quest other than sign where Dean pointed. He’d done bollocks, but here he was part of that whole exciting demographic that people made movies about. 

Okay he hadn’t been _that_ disadvantaged, there were people worse off and he knew that. He had been grateful for the roof over their heads, the food in their fridge, and the clothes on his back, even if he and Dean did some questionable things to pay for it. They weren’t glamorous, though they weren’t dirt poor either, but this was still quite the upgrade for him. 

Once where his mornings consisted of getting up and out of the flat before he could be picked on, loitering on corners and casing out pockets, they now consisted of one thing: Harry Hart.

In all manners of speaking it was a vast, vast improvement.

Their first week had gone well, Eggsy thought, considering everything. In fact it had gone fucking well in his opinion. It could’ve been the worst few days of his entire life. He didn’t even want to think of that after a while, tired and sick of quietly preparing himself for all those dark painful possibilities than remained only that—possibilities. 

Everyday forward just made him realise how (sickeningly) good he had it, and soon enough he got used to the rhythm of Harry’s day and fell into place without an issue.

They got up at seven every morning; Harry usually a few minutes earlier, his moving about waking Eggsy in turn. It didn’t take Eggsy long to adjust his internal clock and each new day offered him more energy than he had ever had, more zest.

Getting up with Harry meant a lot of things too. It meant he got to watch the man put himself together, and hell if that wasn’t art on its own. Harry did it like he did everything; scrupulously. And soon after trying his best not to show that he was staring as much as he was, Eggsy started copying him, remaining a couple steps behind for the best view.

Not all of it worked out, and after two instances of nipping his jaw with his razor he slowed it down, reminding himself that Harry wanted him to be himself, he’d said so. Of course, Harry had been there in a jiffy to patch him up, and then a few days later demonstrated the correct way to shave one’s face. Eggsy listened diligently, and after the second time of doing it the way instructed he and Harry fell into a smooth morning rhythm. 

Brushing their teeth, washing and shaving their faces, combing their hair, applying cologne (a proper amount, which Harry had demonstrated too—one shouldn’t douse oneself like a cockroach with a can of Raid) and getting dressed together became activities that Eggsy quite enjoyed. He’d never had company before. 

He had always been highly aware of his surroundings and it seemed so was Harry, so they had no problem moving around each other silently and peacefully, a mutual dance in the small bathroom that was fun as well as comforting, evidence of the decent team they made. It was good to see things were working out, even if it was small, that Eggsy was doing something right.

Eggsy’s suit came a few days after getting his measurements, and two days afterwards came three more, supposedly different in subtly ways. Harry’s excuse was that different circumstances called for certain styles. Eggsy didn’t really see much of a difference, but he took Harry’s word for it. All that mattered was that Harry put them away, and let Eggsy continue wearing what he wanted. Eggsy liked the suits, but they weren’t really him. Maybe one day. Especially with the shining black Oxfords Harry got for him soon after.

Each day brought them a little closer in the smallest, most domestic ways. The mornings were a perfect example, when they dressed while the other was still in the room. Harry didn’t make any particular effort to look in Eggsy’s direction when it happened, and Eggsy didn’t try to draw any special attention to the activity. He just took the privacy as it came and kicked on his jeans like he always had. In turn Harry never once allowed Eggsy to see him in anything less than trousers or pyjama bottoms, but seeing Harry in anything other than his full attire was weirdly exciting, like when Eggsy used to spy on those adult films on telly late at night. 

Harry was attractive, there was no question. And he wasn’t even Eggsy’s type. Eggsy didn’t think he _had_ a type, to be honest, but he did know he had never found that a man like Harry turned him on—there was too much antagonism there, aside from the age difference. He couldn’t pin point what turned him on either, there were so many little things that sparked his surprised interest as Harry moved around him, ever so nonchalant. Maybe it was that, now that he thought about it; Harry’s sneaky little flirts that left Eggsy wondering if they _were_ flirts in the first place. They came and went without any real substance, just little bursts of flare here and there that left Eggsy’s cogs grinding while Harry seemed completely unaffected, oblivious to the same disapproving fire he kept ironically poking at. 

After _that_ night, that oh-so-very-gut-churning kiss that hadn’t even graced his lips, Eggsy’s inner whisperings reacted strangely. At first they calmed substantially, the sexual tension he’d built up in himself in preparation for some kind of violation shattered and left behind trickles of muted and confused shards. 

The rape-scare alarm dulled substantially after the kiss rather than being aggravated, much to his growing list of exasperated confusion. Harry COULD have ordered him onto his stomach, he could have manipulated him onto his stomach, and could have physically handled him onto his stomach and took what even Eggsy had been, in that moment, devastatingly hot for. But he didn’t, and he didn’t bring it up the next morning other than subtly making an extra delicious batch of pancakes that Eggsy caught as a weird balm. 

Eggsy was tired of worrying. If Harry did eventually change his mind at some point, Eggsy found he wasn’t particularly worried—the muted and confused shards of sexual tension that remained had grown fuzzy with funny little moulds of desire of all kinds; some direct, some secret, some shy, and some still downright puzzled, but desire none the less. 

Eggsy was content with his unexpected attraction to his husband. Actual fucking husband. Three weeks into this shit and he was still blinking at the word. Sometimes he picked at his bare ring finger, trying to remember when his mum had stopped wearing her wedding ring after his father died, and what she did with it. He didn’t wonder if Harry would get him one, it didn’t feel important.

The rest of their days followed in kind. Harry cooked and Eggsy assisted him, pulling out pans, learning to set the table, wiping the counters and watching how Harry worked his magic. Sometimes Harry would explain what he was doing, nothing meant to be learnt or catalogued, just little tips and tricks that Eggsy could store away in his subconscious for the day he decided to try himself. 

After breakfast they went to gym, then walked home and made lunch together (if they didn’t stop off at the café or bakery), then alternated between spending time together and being alone. It didn’t come as a surprise when Harry seemed to smell that Eggsy wanted some time alone, and he would disappear into his study, leaving Eggsy the rest of the house to himself. 

Eggsy enjoyed both instances. 

The luxury of being alone, unwatched, with just his own company was something he had never realised how much he relied on. Before back in his room he’d hide away, never truly alone with Dean stalking in the living room, quietly sorting his emotions until they were scarce enough for him to face the next day on both feet. Now he had no need for that, but he still had plenty of things to work out.

On the days they spent time together Eggsy felt conflicted. They would occupy the living room, nursing glasses of whiskey or scotch and take turns talking. Eggsy usually preferred to listen. Harry had twenty eight years ahead of him and far more interesting stories. Most of Eggsy’s stories weren’t much to talk about at all, and even when Harry would switch to asking him about things he desired in life he was at a loss. He’d spent so much time and effort blocking out the yearning human being inside him that answering a general question on careers he’d grown up fancying had him struggling for words. And when it wasn’t him affecting quality of the conversation, it was Harry.

Harry tended to be vague in the most inconspicuous ways, but it didn’t rile Eggsy up into digging deep like one thought it would. It had that layer of clearly marked _do not open_ on it, lest there be consequences that veered past superficial-Dean-branded clouts. Each day with Harry was a kind of blessing and if biting back his curiosity was one of the only prices to pay then Eggsy would pay it. 

Harry was hiding things from him, always smarting his way around questions. He gave enough to placate, but Eggsy wasn’t stupid and he knew exactly what it was to hide something. He was doing it every single day, playing Harry’s young chaste housewife whilst in the skin of a former rent boy. That alone kept his head and pride lowered in light of Harry’s mystery. He hadn’t yet earned the right to demand more. But he was getting there.

After all, didn’t all fairy tales have an ending?

 

“No, I’m sorry. Zoe Saldana. Hands down.” Roxy smacked the table with her palms, their cappuccinos shaking.

Eggsy sat back and blew the air from his cheeks. “Okay shit. Y’got me there.”

“Johansson will always be a hit but right now I’d go down on one knee for Saldana.”

“Okay fine, what about that swimmer on the front page, what’s-her-name?”

Roxy pretended to think, bumping her cup against her pursed lips. “Mmh, good too, but not even near a substitute.”

“Bullshit! You’re jus’ too hard to please!”

Roxy snorted before she could lift her head, getting froth on her nose. She laughed and wiped her face. 

“There’s nothing wrong with high standards! You’d be surprised how many unsavoury situations can be avoided by keeping high standards. It doesn’t make you a bastard.”

Eggsy nodded, swirling his own drink—his own fancy fucking warm drink in a fancy fucking café beneath a fancy fucking gym at ten in the morning on a Saturday. He was in his own parallel universe, he was sure. They were both still in their gym clothes. Roxy had taken to joining him in the mornings a week ago, and she’d quickly proven herself to be one stand-up gal, posh-roots and all. 

“Nah, I guess not. Sometimes you ain’t got a choice though. Sometimes you never have a choice and you get used to that.”

She put her cup down and hummed, thrumming her fingers around the drink. “Well, here’s a choice. You can stay home tonight and listen to Harry snore, or you can let me take you out and paint the town red.”

“What? Like go to a party? Also, he doesn’t snore.”

“I know a few good clubs and let’s just say I have a universal member’s card. You in?”

“Hell yes!” He smacked the table this time, grinning back at her. Then he paused, and winced lightly. “Think Harry will let me?”

“Has he said no yet?”

Eggsy laughed. “Loads, but I admit I was being a prat most of the time.”

“If we gang up on him I bet we’ll win.” She cocked her brows encouragingly.

“A night out sounds really good, actually.” Eggsy sighed, reaching for his vibrating phone. He glanced at it and wasn’t surprised to see it was from Ryan. He’d been getting text after text from them since he finally plucked up the bollocks to just tell them what had happened.

“Mum?” Roxy asked.

“Nah. My mates, Jamal and Ryan. Only told them two days ago about me and Harry. They never knew I was on Kingsman’s list, so…”

“Wow. How did you tell them?”

Blowing the air out of his cheeks, Eggsy decided to just hand her the phone, after flicking up to the first text. She leaned on the table as she read the conversation, and then burst out laughing a few moments later.

“ _Oi_?” he prompted, half offended and half amused. Her smile was too cute to be mad at.

“No, no, I’m sorry! I just—‘ _Grab-a-Grandpa_ ’?” she repeated off the texts.

Eggsy chuckled. “Laughter is the best medicine, innit? What else could they say? “ _Sorry you got your arse sold off to some rich old bloke_ ”?” 

Kingsman had never really made it into their conversations mainly because it was directed at men their age being matched off to rich old men, but the few times they did have the guts to poke fun at it they’d labelled it Grab-a-Grandpa. Eggsy had forgotten about that until they sent back a million texts asking for details, after copious awkward half-apologies.

He’d been in gym at the time, watching quite leisurely while Harry had his work out. It hadn’t been intentional, he’d just felt a bit lethargic all morning and sat down for an extra break. Harry happened to be near by, using the stretch bands like he always did—but that lazy day for Eggsy just happened to be one of his more _interested_ days, and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the dampness of Harry’s vest, and the ridiculously attractive sight of Harry’s hair unkempt. 

He had seen it all before of course, but he’d been sporting a semi all morning and hell if the sight of Harry like that wasn’t hot as fuck. Harry was usually so collected and managed, it seemed like a kind of delicacy to see him working out, his body still quite capable and defined. The term _aged like fine wine_ flittered across Eggsy’s mind, but really hot as fuck summed it up perfectly. Not that he _told_ Harry that, but he was fairly certain his staring got the message through, thank to his pleb-manners. 

It was that heat simmering in his blood that had him giving up his training altogether, fetching his phone and finally, _finally_ sending the Bat-signal.

_Hey boys. Not dead  
Sent at 11:16_

It took a couple blinks to receive a reply, first from Ryan, then Jamal. They clogged up the group chat with numerous consecutive variations of the phrase WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED, and Eggsy was sorely tempted to simply send them a picture of Harry right then and there. But that would be weird, both of them were completely straight and Harry wasn’t exactly a young chav Eggsy could’ve picked up at a club and eloped with. That would’ve made sense at least, they would’ve taken better to it, but this wasn’t that.

It was as far from that as it could possibly get.

_He put me on kingsman last yr  
Sent at 11:18_

They didn’t manage a reply for a good few minutes. Eggsy didn’t need to elaborate, everyone knew who He was, and how this might have stopped Eggsy from communicating. Of course that implied a very unfavourable environment, compliments of a complete bastard, and Eggsy watched the _typing..._ bar appear on and off, their speechless shock palpable. 

_Guys im fine. I just didnt know how to tell u  
Sent at 11:23_

Are you okay? What happened? Who’s the guy? Fuck Dean! What did your mum say? Eggsy are you okay? Do you need help? We missed you bruv! You should’a told us! God he’s a prick! Where you now? Why didn’t you just tell us? When did it happen? Fucking Dean bastard dickhead!

They were understandably concerned, and Eggsy placated them until they believed him enough to lighten the topic with careful jokes. He hadn’t contacted them to draw pity or help; he contacted them because he was feeling rather high, content where he was slumped on the bench, and as ready as he’d ever be to make this confession. It didn’t turn out as bad as he thought it would, even with their initial awkwardness.

Roxy glanced through the rest quietly, face softening. “They’re really worried.”

“I’d be offended if they weren’t.”

“They seem like good friends. When last did you see them?”

“Day before I met Harry. Around the first.” He shrugged. “’S when we stole this fuck’s car and drove it around town, cop chase and all... I should’a contacted them sooner. That was quite a dramatic disappearance after getting arrested...”

“I would’ve kept my distance for a bit too.” And that’s what he loved about Roxy, no judgement. Simple conversation.

They finished off their drinks quietly, Eggsy responding _no fuck_ to Ryan’s recent inane _is he there with you now_ text. Then suddenly Roxy drummed her knuckles on the table.

“Hey, want to invite them with tonight? Everything is on me.”

Eggsy blinked. “Really? You wouldn’t mind? I mean I can pay for them, Harry got me a card. Or it can still just be us—”

“My treat, I insist.”

Eggsy couldn’t help grinning, frowning a little at her ever friendly company. If he didn’t know better he’d think Harry hired her to be his friend. 

“Sounds like a plan. And with you there they can’t ask all the questions I know they gonna ask.” He trailed off with a mock shiver, but the weight of her gaze was all too pronounced. It was too late, he’d dragged them into the swamp, and the sinking was inevitable. 

He cleared his throat and shifted, watching from his peripheral vision as she lowered her face as she always did when they reached an awkward crossroad about his situation. He sighed through his nose.

“Thanks for not asking those questions.”

She looked up cautiously, shrugging a shoulder.

“Of course. What insensitive bugger would? Well, unless it’s your best friends then I suppose it’s different…”

“Don’t get me wrong. Harry’s been…he’s been great. I almost wish I had something to say about him. No one is that good, you know? He has to have some kind of flaw.”

“Guess you have a lifetime to find out.”

He really did. Good thing he didn’t know what else to do with it other than figure Harry out. 

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

 

Rather than gang up, Eggsy decided to ask on his own. 

If Harry refused then he didn’t want Roxy to be there when they had their first fight. Well, maybe _fight_ was a bit much, Eggsy wasn’t sure he was _that_ confident yet, but he also knew he’d been good as fucking gold and if he wanted to go out with his friends then he should be able to. He’d definitely earned that, and the longer he stalled out the day the more he realised it would fucking hurt if Harry said no. He hadn’t asked for much in his time here, even if Harry did provide everything without needing to be asked, but he hadn’t asked for permission to do something like go out with friends in a long time. It was scary, as if he’d be talking to someone completely different to Harry.

So after two glasses of scotch and a bag of Doritos chips he approached Harry in the kitchen, who was busy preparing some kind of succulent roast.

He shifted awkwardly in the background, feeling just a little out of place as he sometimes did, even if Harry was the one wearing an apron and had two huge orange oven mitts. 

“Hey, Harry?”

“Yes? What’s wrong?” Harry asked when he turned, perhaps seeing something on his face.

Eggsy tried to smooth it out. “Nothing... I was just wondering if I could go out with Roxy and my mates tonight. Roxy offered to take us out for a bit.”

“Did she say where to?”

“A few clubs she goes to.”

“A _few_?” Harry asked, and Eggsy nod-shrugged. A moment later Harry shrugged back. “All right.”

Eggsy squinted, masking the flutter of his relieved heart with a little bounce back on his heels. “Are you sure?”

“All I ask is that you look after yourself.”

“I’ll look after me _and_ Roxy. I promise.”

Harry smiled one of those stupid proud smiles. “Then I have no qualms.”

“You sure?” Eggsy repeated.

Harry turned back to his cooking. “Unless you're planning something you know is wrong.”

“No.”

“Then have fun.”

Eggsy raced two steps at a time to choose an outfit.

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

 

Eggsy hadn’t been so excited since they’d jacked Rottie’s car. 

Rocking a white cap and Plague Adidas jacket (compliments of Harry, he was still in awe every day), officially his favourite outfit, he bounced outside the front door until a Kingsman taxi showed up with Roxy in the passenger seat. Eggsy frowned, confused as fuck and looked at Harry, who was smiling at Roxy.

“Is 1AM pushing it?” she asked out the window.

“One past one will be pushing it.” Harry joked.

“Thanks, Mr. Hart. You, get in.”

Eggsy blinked off his expression and came up at a sudden blank when he turned to Harry. Should he hug him? Kiss him? What? It was incredibly awkward until Harry moved past him and opened the back door.

“Have a good time.” He said. Plain and simple.

Eggsy nodded and sidled past and in, cheeks just a little hot but it was too dark to notice. Harry patted the car and gave them both a parting smile before heading back into the house. Roxy turned as the driver started the car, looking like an absolute rock star.

“Love the outfit.” She said, grinning.

“And you. Question though, why the taxi? I was hoping we’d be in your gorgeous fucking car.”

“If we’re going to get drunk someone sober has to drive us home.”

Eggsy pouted and nod-shrugged. That made sense; thank goodness for Roxy. Then again, he was a decent drunk driver.

 _Then again_ , risking her car wasn’t worth it…

A few minutes later and they were picking up his mates outside Jamal’s place, and the looks on their faces when they saw the taxi, and Roxy, were priceless. Eggsy hadn’t quite told them his new mate was a _her_.

“Oi fellas. Looking for a ride? Show us some knee!” He shouted out of the taxi as they came to a stop. He grinned at them a moment longer before opening the door and scooting over to make place.

Jamal climbed in first, grabbing his hand and taking a real hard look at him, and then Roxy. Ryan followed after looking just as bewildered but excited all the same.

“Eggsy! Hey, Miss!” Ryan said, leaning into Jamal to look around the seat at her. 

“Call me Roxy.” She said with a dazzling smile, definitely making both his mates blush.

“Eggsy, so good to see you, bruv!” Ryan said over Jamal, who was yes _definitely_ blushing as he not-so-subtly elbowed Jamal in the ribs.

“And er, who exactly is Miss Roxy?” Jamal asked.

Eggsy shrugged like it was no big deal. Because it wasn’t. “New pal, works at the gym I told you about.”

“Awesome!” Ryan exclaimed, face embarrassingly red.

Roxy turned in her seat, eyes dark and narrowed and straight out of a kick-ass movie. “Ready for a killer night, boys?” She asked, dangerously, making them all bounce and hoot in the backseat, the driver chuckling good-heartedly.

“Ready!”

“Well, pull up your socks and knickers and enjoy the ride.”

 

There was something to be said about posh clubs. Eggsy couldn’t deny it. 

The entire atmosphere was different from the couple clubs he’d been to. And really, it was a sad, insulting contrast to the life he’d belonged to. 

He hated seeing the differences, but the worst part was _enjoying_ them. The venues, firstly, were the biggest change. Beautiful clubs with beautiful doors and in a beautiful postal code. Intricate neon lights and crystal glass doors, suited bouncers and a proper waiting list. Roxy got them by just by flashing her card, and Eggsy revelled in the feeling as they swaggered past an entire line of arrogant snobs.

Inside was even better. Not too dark, not too loud, furniture fit for a king and floor tiles that of the Hefner residence. The railings had no rust, the toilets were immaculate, and the service was top-notch.

The people were even all right. Hoity-toity they may be, but the girls were welcoming and giggly and the guys were full of compliments and open wallets.

It was _nice_. Eggsy could enjoy himself rather than tripping on the beer-soaked stairs and cutting his hand on the broken rails. He could enjoy himself without people bumping into him every two seconds because every Dick, Tom and Harry was allowed in here. He could enjoy ordering a drink without feeling like the man down the isle had paid the bartender to slip something into his drink. He could enjoy himself without being groped or shoved by another low-life like himself and having to defend himself against a drunken brute twice his age and size.

Everyone here was young, and if they weren’t they had a professional, seductive air about them that had young people hanging off their every gesture; in a word, classy. It was all fucking nice and he both hated and loved it. Every time he looked at his mates and saw their equally awed faces he felt bad because he couldn’t pretend to be in their class anymore. He was now one of _these_ people, going to gym and ordering cappuccinos and eating steak for dinner. He felt bad for having it so good. His mates deserved good too…

All mellow thoughts quickly drained away as they got into the groove of things, draining shot after shot around multiple tables and counters and clubs. Roxy knew her way around, she knew everyone around, and within an hour Eggsy felt like one of the family, and so did Jamal and Ryan. 

No one knew who they were or which area they came from, it was completely anonymous. Or well, sort of, they became Roxy’s mysterious _cutie_ friends. All the girls wanted to know them, pulling on their hands, their jackets, winking and smiling. Twice Eggsy had to jerk away from a drunken girl trying to kiss him.

Luckily Roxy never settled them in one place for too long, it was hard enough avoiding the questions his friends kept trying to pass him let alone the dozens being thrown at them. Eggsy couldn’t fault his friends for being curious, but he didn’t _want_ to be asked—especially not in person. It was times like that that he wished men used the same tact that women did for delicate topics. He could almost feel Dean’s fist in his gut just for thinking it.

There was enough dancing and drinking to keep them occupied though, as well as Roxy’s vibrant presence. They were smitten with her, dubbing her Foxy Roxy and continuously shooting Eggsy looks as if congratulating him, as if he’d dare have a girlfriend after being married off to some rich guy. Their attempts at distraction and nonchalance were far less practical than Roxy’s. They didn’t once imply to her the same thing though, so he left them be. 

Roxy didn’t.

Each time they leaned into him, another magical round of fancy sparkling shots appeared, or the song playing was her favourite and they all just _had_ to dance, or it was group picture time again, or she had this crazy story they just had to hear lest she explode. Roxy was magical on her own and Eggsy stared, fascinated, as she led them all around like unsuspecting circus performers. Jamal and Ryan were none the wiser, taking his awe for a crush and following her like puppies, glad to get thoroughly wild and wasted. 

Four hours and the four clubs over and they started slowing down. They were walking on rocks and the music had invaded their bones, and they’d sweated out their clothes among the sway of bodies that became a blur. Eggsy was too tired to worry when they collapsed into a booth and slumped. He had no idea how Roxy still had feet when he noticed she’d been wearing fucking sky-scraper heels all night, the heels shaped like vampire fangs and encrusted with sliver stones.

Roxy ordered them another round, making them all groan, but none of them refused. They sat up anyway, and the questions poured along with the liquor.

“Wait, Har’? Tha’s ‘is real name?” Ryan slurred, squinting at Eggsy through the neon kaleidoscope flashing through the club.

“Yeah, I mean, I think?” Eggsy shrugged, staring off into the crowd.

“Tha’s your name too now, yeah?” Jamal added. Eggsy blinked owlishly at the thought.

“Yeah. Shit...I haven’t even said it yet.”

“Said what?” Ryan asked.

Jamal held up his hand for silence, all of them swaying for a moment before he spoke as clearly as was possible in their state. “Gary Hart.”

Eggsy’s heart thumped erratically, making him feel twice as uncomfortable, slightly squeezed and claustrophobic. Thankfully it was only him to notice. Ryan laughed instead and shook his shoulder. “Shit, that ain’t bad, bruv. Could be worse, I tell ya.”

“Actually has a very nice ring to it if you don’t mind me saying. And that comes from someone with high standards.” Roxy added, catching Eggsy’s gaze. Her eyes were a little _too_ present, he thought as he hiccupped.

“Gary Har’.” Ryan said.

“Gary Hart...” Eggsy echoed, purely for the sake of just doing it and getting it over with. His heart squeezed again and he chuckled silently, a small shake of his shoulders. He hadn’t had to announce himself to anyone yet to say the words. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t said his whole name yet. He hadn’t even thought it out loud in his head. 

It almost felt like a brand new shoe that he was going to have to break in, suffering a few blisters along the way. A shoe that he was sure he wasn’t entirely upset with having to wear, but forced to anyway.

“Eggsy Har’.” Jamal said with a hiccup, but Ryan ignored him and leaned towards Eggsy with _that_ face that broadcasted everything on his mind. Eggsy would’ve cringed if he wasn’t already cringing, the alcohol burning his stomach and his clothes five layers too much.

“So er, y’ain’t said much about ‘im.”

Jamal livened at that, much to Eggsy’s dismay. “Yeah c’mon, ya ain’t tell us nothing ‘cept he’s some posh suited bloke.”

“Whaddaya wanna know?” Eggsy asked reluctantly, slumped and feeling cornered but so _ugh_ at the same time that he didn’t really care. He was married to a wealthy classy man called Harry Hart who spoiled him but didn’t touch him and that was all. Case closed. He wished he could say it out loud but he might as well have a dead mouse in his mouth.

“How rich is ‘e?”

“How big’s ya house?”

“Does he have kids?”

“Have y’guys...?”

A terrorist group could’ve busted in and blown up the place and Eggsy still wouldn’t have made an effort to move. His mates stared at him, desperate to hear more, but being selfish was easier and he stared right back at them, hoping they got the picture. Or passed out before they did.

“Oh my god!” Roxy suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Jamal’s arm excitedly as she pointed across the room. “There she is.”

“Who now?”

“The girl I am going to make my wife.” 

And that was by far the biggest distraction she could have provided. 

Eggsy continued to stare like an idiot as they went mental over the sudden fact that she was lesbian. She’d told him the first day they started hanging out, perhaps in a way meant to comfort? He wasn’t sure, but he was astounded by her never-ending list of ways to distract his friends. Quickly enough they actually got up to go and get a closer look at the girl like they were fifteen years old again, leaving Eggsy to slink further in his seat like any sudden movement would catch their attention. Eggsy doubted Roxy even knew the person she’d singled out, and he raised a brow at her in his drunken version of _holy fuck you are awesome teach me your ways_.

As soon as they disappeared into the crowd she widened her eyes in exasperation and flopped back into her seat, mimicking Eggsy, their chins on their chests, staring across the table at each other. 

“So much for me being here.”

“Thanks for the save, Rox.” He smiled at her, nudging her foot under the table. She nudged him back with a crooked smile.

But comfort didn’t come back with it, not when Eggsy realised she was probably also just as curious. He knew he would be, and it was nice of her to resist the urge to ask about his and Harry’s private life. Maybe it was out of respect for Harry more than anything, and he was grateful anyway, but suddenly he couldn’t stop himself and he shifted up a bit, needing _someone_ in the world other than Harry to know he wasn’t being violated every night.

“...Nothing.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing’s happened between me and Harry.”

She looked at him strangely for a moment, deliberating, maybe, rather than surprised like he thought he would have been. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah.” He said instantly, then gave it a brief moment of thought that just made him sigh and feel depressed all the more—Good Lord he was a miserable drunk, had he always been like this? 

“I mean it’s good, yeah? I mean if we haven’...if he...”

“Eggsy.” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No?”

“Does Harry?”

“...Not that I can tell. An’ I try, Rox.”

“Then I think you should stop worrying.”

Eggsy frowned his faced into a crinkled chip.

“...Y’weirdly calm ‘bout this, y’know that, yeah?”

“You can trust Harry.”

“Why?”

Later Eggsy would blame the alcohol, the lights, the noise, but he could’ve sworn she just Harry-ied him. He received no answer and the moment seemed to drag on as she looked away, the effects of the alcohol suddenly appearing in her as well, just managing to hide the things in her eyes. He sat up, knowing what he saw, but his friends crashed back into the table and physically manhandled both of them back onto the dance floor. Eggsy recognised the beat as one of their new favourites as a group, and felt himself drifting away with it, far too out of it to nit-pick or resist.

Within moments his dreary feelings were gone and he felt just alive enough to grin and dance with his friends and the many beautiful strangers. What was there to be sad over? His friends didn’t mean to upset him, Roxy was great and Harry didn’t say no, so what was there to mope about? He had attractive people all around him, his mates with him, a new friend, and he didn’t have to worry about getting home and finding his mum crying against the kitchen cupboards. Hart wasn’t even that bad of a surname. There was absolutely no reason to be pissy.

Until there was.

“What’s your name?” A tall snob asked Roxy, appearing from nowhere and just screaming _dick-head_. He had the demeanour of someone who pretended they washed their hair in fucking holy water, and Eggsy’s instincts flared the moment he saw him.

“Not interested.” Roxy replied coolly, body towards Ryan as the music went on, arms above her head.

“But you don’t know what I’m offering! I’m Charlie.”

“Not interested.”

Another guy, probably the wingman, leaned around Charlie and thumbed towards Eggsy, Jamal and Ryan. 

“Why are you with these losers?” 

“Can’t a girl have a good time without explaining herself?” Roxy asked without giving them the honour of eye contact.

Eggsy was shaking his head and moving forward before he made the decision, a head shorter than Charlie and his band of pricks, but he had faced bigger.

“Oi, is there a problem?” he asked.

A guy to Charlie’s right leaned in as if he had been waiting for one of them to come to Roxy’s aid, and that pissed Eggsy off even further. “Charlie’s only making conversation, right Charlie?”

“Not what I asked.”

Jamal pushed forward, Roxy and Ryan falling behind them. They’d all stopped dancing now, a stiff group in the middle of the dance floor. “Is there a problem here?” Jamal asked, jaw up.

Charlie scoffed, face pink from drink and eyes twinkling in that way people had when they were used to getting their way—Dean created that look. Charlie looked over their heads at Roxy, shrugging like he wasn’t the arsehole he was. Eggsy could almost smell it on him.

“Come on, let’s not spoil the night. You’re too good to be with this sad lot. Want another drink, babe?”

Eggsy stepped forward, valiantly managing to control his balance. “She ain’t interested. Wha’ part can’t y’get through that bushy head’a yours?”

The blond idiot to the left stepped forward too. “No one is talking to you.”

“Is it just me or is there a stuck record in here?” Ryan asked as he flanked Eggsy’s empty side, just like the old days.

“You better step off, bruv.” Eggsy warned, his bubbling annoyance quickly deforming into a more aggressive beast.

Charlie leaned in, schooling the most patronising look Eggsy had ever seen (counting Dean), as if Eggsy were the toddler trying to be serious. 

“Or what?” he asked, far too confident. If only he knew where Eggsy was really from, the _real_ threats he’d faced—

“Hey, haven’t I seen you before?” the one of Charlie’s boys said, pointing a finger at Eggsy.

One of them laughed, Eggsy’s vision was swaying too much to keep track of who. “Definitely not from one of our classes.”

“Oxford?”

“St. Andrews, maybe.”

“No, wait, I think we may have met. Did you serve me at MacDonald’s in Winchester Service Station?”

“More likely a shoe-shine stand.”

“Definitely St. Andrews.”

More laughter, and Eggsy felt his friends bristle. He kept his drunken cool well, he thought, right up until the next part that seemed to pull the rug right from beneath his feet.

“No, no, wait, I think I’ve seen this one before. Yeah. Used to drive past Smith Street on the way home with my uncle after golf. Is that where I’ve seen you?” 

It could’ve just been a horrid dream, a nightmare, it should have been, but Jamal heard it too, and shoved the bastard in the chest. 

“Oi! Shut’cha fuckin’ mouth!”

“Oh-ho! Is this a group act then? A pretty bird like you can do better than these plebs, sweetheart.”

Eggsy wanted to jump back at Roxy’s defence, but he was fucking STUCK, guilt plastered all over his face like he’d fallen in the mud. He couldn’t feel the ground. Where was the ceiling? Fairy tale story? No, that had been too optimistic. It was still just a nightmare. Of course it was. Life could never be that good, that black and white, that simple—

He wracked his brain as the urge to vomit sprung, trying to figure out if he’d seen these faces before. He really hoped he hadn’t—he really, really did. It was bad enough having _done_ what he did, but having done it for this lot, or their fathers? Or uncles—oh fuck no, he’d go right home and drink bleach. Or maybe just walk out and in front of a bus. 

“I’m only gunna tell you this once. _Back the fuck up_.” Jamal stated loudly, taking the lead as Ryan subtly pulled on Eggsy’s arm. Eggsy wanted both to turn and hug his friend, and launch himself forward and beat the shit out of these arseholes.

“Or what? Huh?” Charlie directed that stupid face at Jamal who squared his shoulders.

Suddenly Roxy slipped between them, surprising them all enough that no one reacted as she drew her own fist back.

“Or this.” She said, and threw the first punch. 

Jamal and Ryan exclaimed loudly, deafening Eggsy for a moment before all hell broke loose. The crowd scattered and left them the entire dance floor, and Eggsy gave over his control to instinct and muscle memory. He grabbed the person charging at him and let anger do the rest, inebriated-senses be damned. He knew he wasn’t all there, none of them were, but it was a fairly simple drunk fight. Anything dressed like him or female wasn’t a target, the rest in their cashmere and Oxfords he fucking butchered. And it was glorious. 

The pumping of his blood upped the oxygen reaching his deprived brain, and it caught up enough to realise the woman in their scuffle was Roxy, and he nearly choked on a concoction of fear and panic and delayed senses. Whether or not he promised Harry he’d look after the both of them he HAD to look out for her, what kind of friend would he be letting some arseholes hit her? He tried frantically to get to her and beat the lights out of the guy that had her, but when said man sailed past him and hit the floor Eggsy didn’t know whether it was the drink or part of Roxy’s magical magic.

Time stopped for a second as they all stared at Roxy who looked at each of them then shrugged, and the fight started again as Jamal dived right back into his sparring partner. Eggsy bolted straight for Roxy and yanked her aside while Ryan and Jamal distracted the two still on their feet.

“I’m all right!” Roxy shouted over the chaos, shaking his shoulder as he looked over her. He nodded but kept searching anyway, until there was a hand on his shoulder and he was jerked back by the folds of his jacket.

He spun to keep his balance and ducked, shouldering the person who he was extremely pleased to hear was Charlie, his sweet exclaim loud and satisfying as they hit the floor. Eggsy made sure to land heavily, knocking out every ounce of breath before rearing up and swinging his fist into Charlie’s face. And thankfully, it wasn’t a face he remembered. 

Suddenly Charlie was gliding away. Eggsy struggled to hold on, vision all over the place as he clung stubbornly to one of Charlie’s ankles as his body was tugged the other way. It only registered that the bouncers had arrived when Roxy stepped in and manually unlocked his grip, shouting something to him that he couldn’t hear over the roaring of his blood, even with the music softer so the bouncers could bark at the lot of them. There were two men pulling him back and one dragging Charlie back, and another putting himself between Jamal and Ryan and Charlie’s two chipmunks. 

What happened next passed without much recollection on Eggsy’s side. The next thing he knew he was leaning against a street light, Ryan and Jamal pacing around him. The night was dark and cold, but alive with dressed-up people and fancy cars. It was still a Saturday night, it might be after midnight, he wasn’t sure, and he was glad for the activity in the street to distract him from surfacing memories of dank corners and soul-gnawing loneliness.

And there the sadness was back, fuck those fucking bastards. 

“Ah shit, my mum is gonna kill me.” Jamal said somewhere to the side, touching his scratched up brow.

Ryan was still hyped, throwing his hands up excitedly. “That was sick! Missed you so much Eggsy, y’always brought the action!” 

Eggsy nodded, giving them a glance—because he needed to see them to make sure he wasn’t somehow suddenly back on Smith Street, drunk on the beers Dean passed around for dinner—and slowly leaned over. 

“...Fuckin’ miss you guys too but...I’m gonna throw up...”

And he did, his stomach purging like he’d auditioned for the Exorcist. He just missed his shoes, leaning a little further over and clinging to the street light as he threw up again, his pipes burning right from the pits of his stomach all the way to his mouth. Someone patted his back, and he spat to clear his mouth as Roxy’s voice cut through his state. 

“Time to go home, I think.” She said, fingers dancing over the screen of her phone. How she had any motor function, Eggsy had no clue.

He groaned at the sight on the pavement before painstakingly pulling himself up, then again at how much better he felt just from that. He looked around, finding Ryan by his side, Jamal and Roxy a few steps away. He looked her over again. “Y’okay, Roxy? Didja get hurt?”

“I’m fine. You on the other hand, your lip.”

She did look all right, but Eggsy was too disorientated to keep looking. He lifted a hand and pawed at his lips with a heavy hand, and immediately jerked it back, hissing. “Shit.”

“No kissing hubby t’night.” Ryan giggled behind him.

“Fuck off, mate...”

“You guys are in no state to go home. I’ll be getting a call from your folks.” Roxy said, looking at each of them with a weird form of regret that Ryan was quick to try pacify by launching forward, stumbling on his jelly legs, and slipping on the painted pavement. 

“We’re grown me- _HEN_!” The last of it came out as a yowl as he hit the ground, a hair’s length from having landed _in_ the vomit. Jamal howled with laughter, as Ryan glanced at the mess with eyes that of prey that barely escaped its predator.

Roxy nodded like that proved her point, and put her phone to her ear. Eggsy hadn’t planned on listening but it was impossible once she started. 

“Harry, hi. Yeah, we’re on our way. But I don’t think these boys are fit to go home...Actually yes, I was hoping...yes. Is that all right? Thanks. Be there soon.”

A part of Eggsy wondered why she was allowed to call him _Harry_ , while the other part circled back to the comment that he could trust him. Had she said that? It felt like a dream. Maybe it was, maybe it was part of his subconscious. Maybe it was a nightmare; he wasn’t feeling too good. He didn’t remember much at all, it was all a blur of lights and strong flavours. He did feel loads better though, the fresh air, quieter environment and his lighter stomach did just enough to get him upright on his own, with just a little swaying. 

By the time the taxi came he was a little more alert even if his limbs were still logs, craving Harry’s big warm bed like nothing else. Holy _fuck_ did he want to crawl into that heaven and stay there forever. Away from life, away from memories, away from snob pricks, away from probing questions, away from everything. Maybe just come out for Harry’s food, but then back in again. Make a fucking nest and just exist. Or would he fade away?

When they finally reached Harry’s home it had been mutually established they’d all crash there, and Roxy would see the boys home in the morning. With texts sent to their parents (after a spell check from Roxy to assure suspicion on their activities were kept to a hopeful minimum), it left all attention on the fact that they were going to see where Eggsy lived, and with whom.

As it was Eggsy was too gone to give a damn what they thought, although he knew they’d never be jealous or nasty about his sudden step up on the social ladder. After all it came with the duty of being a fucking wife, he hoped they felt sympathy instead of fucking jealousy or he’d kick their arses.

Harry was waiting at the door when they arrived, a beacon in the dark of the night. Roxy herded them out like children and ushered them to the front door, apparently their designated drunk-walker. Eggsy was just ready to crawl upstairs and collapse, the last thing on his mind was that they all looked exactly like they’d gotten into a fight.

In fact, where the fuck was his cap? Fuck.

“Back from the war?” Harry asked, his voice a comfort in the shady swirl of Eggsy’s senses.

“Y’could say tha’.” Eggsy forced out when no one else answered, all eyes on him. He took a deep breath, avoiding Harry’s eyes, and gestured from his friends to Harry. “Boys meet Harry. My...my husband. Harry, Jamal and Ryan.”

The two of them nodded, Jamal adding a decently articulated _“Nice to meet you, sir.”_

“Likewise, gentleman. Roxy.” Harry greeted, and then let them inside.

“We’re fine.” Roxy said instantly, giving Eggsy a pointed pat on the shoulder.

Before Harry could crack any wise comment Eggsy opened his mouth and word-vomited, shrugging half way through because he was too done for the night to care, yet so obviously caring, otherwise he wouldn’t have said shit. He hated feeling so conflicted. 

“These guys was interfering with Roxy so she punched the one and suddenly we was all fightin’. I think we won though.”

Harry just blinked at him, and to the side Jamal finally faltered. “I think I’m gonna puke...”

“Toilet is through that door, please use it.” Harry pointed, and both Jamal and Ryan bolted. Eggsy seriously wondered when they’d gotten so bad at drinking, or whether Roxy had just found a whole new level.

“You two, help me bring down the blankets.”

Eggsy groaned loudly at that but obeyed, sharing a guilty smile with Roxy. His heart lifted a little at the exchange. 

They pulled out a bunch of blankets he hadn’t even known existed from one of the cupboards on Harry’s side (no seriously, Harry’s stuff was boring, Eggsy had already tried snooping and lost interest half way), and carted them down into the living room. There was just enough uncomfortable couch place for everyone, and Roxy collapsed as soon as Harry gave the go ahead, the dangerous ends of her heels slicing through the air and making Eggsy fear for his extremities. Jamal and Ryan where still heaving their guts out in the toilet, and with Roxy genuinely looking about to pass out, Eggsy found himself ghosting after Harry.

He caught him on the stairs, and Harry stopped when he realised he had a tail. Eggsy swallowed and stopped unsteadily under his gaze, feeling guilty and exhausted but also calm...like if he dropped on the stairs now he’d be able to sleep peacefully without someone kicking him in the ribs. Maybe he’d even wake up in bed, because it was Harry Hart staring down at him. 

“Sorry ‘bout this. They pretty smashed.” He started, swinging a thumb at the toilet. “Roxy didn’t wanna send ‘em home like this.”

“That’s all right. Best be safe than sorry. Though I must say introducing your friends to me while they’re drunk doesn’t make for the best first impressions.”

“Sorry. But y’great anyway, how could they not like you?” Eggsy attempted a smile and climbed so he was one step below Harry, enough to catch his scent and breathe it in. 

“Flattering. Now off to bed with you or you won’t be able to get up later. I’m making pancakes.”

“I love your pancakes.” Eggsy smiled wider, his stomach already clenching for something substantial. Then he swayed violently and grabbed onto the railing, lifting a hand to his forehead as Harry grabbed his shoulder. He shook his head, meaning to reassuring Harry, and reached out to grab his arm in turn.

“Sorry f’comin’ home like this...I reckon it’s in bad taste.” He said, dropping his gaze in favour of looking at their interlocked arms.

Harry ruined the moment by dropping his arm, forcing Eggsy to do the same. 

“Perhaps the fight was in bad taste?”

Eggsy snorted. He expected that before even walking in. 

“Oi, them snobs was hittin’ on Roxy even after she told ‘em no. We just hit back.”

“I believe you. Still, you can’t expect me not to worry.”

“Aww. Fla’erin’. Next time maybe y’should come with. I been dying t’ find out y’tolerance level.”

Harry made the funniest expression, like a cross between superior amusement and dread. “You’ll have poisoned yourself by then.”

Eggsy scoffed with as much attitude as he could muster, hiccupping, and realised he’d actually missed the man. Afternoons with Harry were suddenly rivalling crazy nights out; when did this happen? Harry’s age was rubbing off onto him. He licked his dry lips, swallowing to sooth his scorched throat and poked Harry in the stomach, smirking at the cocked brow he received. 

“Oh, is that right? I’ll hold ya t’ that.”

“Please don’t. Now go sleep.” Harry gestured to the living room before he turned again to leave. Eggsy balked and grabbed his wrist.

“Wha’? Down ‘ere?”

“Who did you think the fourth blanket was for? I believe it’s called a slumber party.”

Eggsy pulled the most devastated face without even trying, but the pulling on Harry was definitely his doing. 

“But your bed is soft.” He whined like he was five, and ready to act like it if need be.

“ _Our_ bed is soft, yes. But you’re so smashed I bet you anything you could sleep on the kitchen floor like a log. You won’t even make it upstairs.”

“Y’could carry me? I watch you lift every day.” Eggsy argued, but when Harry’s closed expression didn’t change Eggsy snorted and shrugged, giving Harry’s wrist another tug as he tilted his face up. “Fine. Then give us a kiss.”

This time Harry pulled his wrist free and climbed another stair. “Absolutely not. You’re pissed.”

The action, however meant, struck a deep gash in Eggsy’s chest. 

He exhaled from the force of it and held out his burning hand, glancing from Harry’s eyes to his hand. He frowned as a rollercoaster of emotions soared through him, ranging from hurt to rejection to disbelief to plain confusion, but at least not loneliness, at least not that. At least he wasn’t outside right now, face getting wind burn from standing on corners, knowing when he went home, he would still be on his own.

“...An’ also horny. My blood is still pumpin’.” He said after too-long a pause, steadying himself again when his balance caved. 

Harry sighed, glancing once to the toilet. “This is the least appropriate time to talk about this with your friends here.”

“Yeah, but that makes it kinky, dontcha think?”

“It won’t be when you wake up remembering nothing.”

Eggsy gaped, nose scrunched, and took a deliberate step up that he hoped would come off as intimidating. “And tha’ _really_ turns you off? Y’could have me right here and I’d wake up rememberin’ shite and tha’ doesn’t turn you on? Not even a little?”

He expected a curt answer, another sigh, a frown or a more forceful order to get to bed. What he didn’t expect the sudden formation of livid lines across Harry’s face, his lips twisting in a way that would have frightened Eggsy if his reaction-time was in working order.

“...I’ll overlook this because you’re drunk and on account of your adolescent upbringing. In fewer words: no it doesn’t, and I am offended you would think so.”

“Offended?” Eggsy repeated loudly. He realised himself a moment later as his voice carried in the dark, and he deflated with a spike of shame. “I’m jus’...I didn’t...?”

“Good night.” Harry said, tight and distant and more terrifying that any of Dean’s tones, enough so that a sick jolt shot from Eggsy’s navel into his throat and he jerked, grabbing Harry’s wrist again despite the warning bells.

“Harry, wait!” he choked, letting go immediately when he felt Harry stiffen further. He swallowed again and rubbed the side of his face with a shaking hand, heart giving an ugly thump inside his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I know y’not like that. I _know_. It’s just... it’s still hard f’me. I ain’t never trust many people before. I ain’t never met a person like you that didn’t...” that didn’t hurt him, that didn’t use him, that didn’t scorn him, that didn’t look at him and see a lost cause. “’S like you fake. Like a dream that’s apar’ of a nightmare. Somethin’ from a bad hit of coke, thinkin’ y’having a good time then it all melts away. I want you to be real but...”

He did. Lord did he want that. He wanted all of this to be real. Whether he deserved it or not. He didn’t want to go back to an empty belly in the morning, a beer-filled one at night. He didn’t want to have only one pair of trainers. He didn’t want to go back to Smith Street. He didn’t want to look at another man in public and wonder if he’d blown him and whether he should run.

Suddenly Harry was right in front of him, smelling familiar and enveloping him in a dark, warm aura.

“I am very real, Eggsy. Believe in that, if nothing else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Eggsy needs to see someone about his Dean demons.
> 
> Also I really want to try upload again this weekend becAUSE STUFF HAPPENS GUYS, STUFF HAPPENS NEXT CHAPTER so cross your fingers and toes and pubes that I manage to finish it by the weekend hhngnghgh
> 
> Thank you for your continued support and cheering <3


	8. Selfless Selfish Desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this eases all the blue-balls going around.  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

** Chapter 8: Selfless Selfish Desires **

 

Eggsy woke to someone prodding his ribs and a painful myriad of cranial throbbing. Ryan was at his side, mumbling something about it being time to get up as he tugged twice on his arm, and then disappeared. Eggsy groaned loudly at the thought of moving and remained curled up on Harry’s arm chair, his body a collage of tiny aches. The room was still, he felt like a bat as he sightlessly deducted that he was alone, all the voices and movement in the kitchen. 

What finally got him up was the realisation that his two friends were here in the house, no doubt in the kitchen with Harry where the activity was. He rose and shambled off as quickly as he could, rubbing his eyes and throwing off his jacket in a random direction as he went.

“Morning, Eggsy.” Roxy chirped as he entered the kitchen, light shining in from the windows.

He made a sound to acknowledge her and waved his hand around, squinting at Jamal and Ryan who greeted him next, far more awake than he was. He dropped down into an available chair and winced, covering his eyes as though he’d turned into a vampire last night.

“Ah, you’re up.”

Eggsy squinted towards Harry’s voice, and felt a shiver of something funny pass through him when they made eye contact. Was that…shame? Discomfort? He stared, eyes small, and watched Harry hold out something in his fingers.

“Open.”

The request was more than obvious by the angle and aim of Harry’s hand, and Eggsy spared one apathetic moment to remember that he should be blushing or something, and then opened his mouth and let Harry drop two pills in. Harry smiled and tapped his chin to close it, then handed him a large glass of water.

“All of it.” he ordered with a cock of his brow, and went back into the kitchenette where he started serving up pancakes.

Eggsy downed the water and the pills, staring at his friends who were smiling cheekily at him. He gave them a lazy flip of the finger and Roxy a more solid greeting, comforted by her casual pony tail and absence of make up. 

Soon enough they all had a plate of pancakes they got stuck in like a pack of wolves. Eggsy hadn’t realised how hungry he was until his first bite, and proceeded to race everyone for the rights to go back for seconds first. He didn’t go unrivalled, but their hangovers slowed them all down, as well as Eggsy’s busted lip—not that it stopped him.

Harry left the plate of extra pancakes in the kitchen and dusted off, walking past with a satisfied look.

“I’ll be upstairs for a bit. Enjoy.”

They gave a muffled chorus of ‘thank you’s around their mouthfuls, and he left them to eat. 

“Damn, these are good.” Ryan said, like a reluctant confession.

Jamal snorted, unashamed. “Better than my mum’s.”

Eggsy waved an exasperated hand at the weird truth. “I know, right?”

With a great sigh Ryan looked at him, shaking his head in something akin to awe. “You so lucky, bruv.”

Eggsy had no idea how to respond to that, or to the odd look on Roxy’s face.

By some luck a phone rang, and by the third ring it was clear it wasn’t one of theirs. Eggsy got up and followed the sound, Roxy’s gaze trailing after him, and he found it in the hallway on a shelf. He looked once up the stairs for Harry, and when he didn’t appear for the fifth ring Eggsy scooped up the phone and swiped the screen. 

“Hello, Harry’s husband sp—.”

“ _Galahad_ —”

There was an awkward pause that tickled both the mischief and amusement in him, but it quickly fizzled away into a pop of confusion. 

“ _Hello, Eggsy._ ”

“Er, hello.”

“ _It’s Merlin. From the agency_.”

“Oh. Hi.” He straightened a little as if the tall imposing man could see him.

“ _Where is Harry?_ ”

Eggsy started idling up the stairs, glancing back at the dining room to make sure he wasn’t being followed on account on the nonsense he felt like talking.

“In the shower. All alone... I didn’t join him.”

“ _Pity_.”

“...You ain’t gonna ask why not?”

“ _How have you been?_ ”

“Er, good, yeah. And you?”

“ _Can’t complain. Would you take the phone to Harry, please?_ ”

Eggsy stopped, almost upstairs, and hesitated. “...Right now?”

“ _Should I ask why not?_ ”

“Er. No.” Blush settled across his cheeks and he completed his journey quickly, stopping outside the en suite to knock. “Harry? That bloke Merlin is on the phone.”

“Give me a moment.” Came the response, and Eggsy stepped back to wait. He held the phone to his ear, hearing nothing from Merlin’s side save for the sound of fingers on a keyboard.

Then the door opened, and Eggsy’s mouth fell open audibly. 

Harry was almost naked. 

Okay he had a huge towel around his waist that reached past his knees, but pull that off and he would be stark naked, hair soaked and pushed to the one side and skin glistening with rivulets from the shower, a light puff of steam dancing in the background. He had one hand holding the towel up at his left side, and the other on the door handle, giving his chest the floor for all the attention.

Eggsy wasn’t sure what to do with the fact that Harry had a light dusting of dark hair down his chest into the subtle V of his hips, nor the way the water clung to his pectoral muscles. Of all the very few times Harry had been shirtless in front of him Eggsy had never quite seen _this_ , it was like a whole new creature, skin tight and warm and wet. All he had to go on were quick peeks in the morning when Harry was already dried and cooled down, giving way to that consistent controlled character that Harry was.

But this, this was an entire new image just ready to haunt Eggsy the next time he tried to think of a supermodel. 

He had the sudden irresistible urge to grab whatever mound he could reach and just _feel_ it, knowing despite all lingering suspicions and concerns that legally _this_ was all his as much as he was Harry’s. 

Did Harry ever feel like this for him, despite what he said and did? Suddenly the idea of Harry not actually being attracted to him sunk an enormous stone to the pit of his stomach, but his mind was quick to replay the things that said otherwise, and his body was even quicker to encourage him to fucking reach out and touch already...

“...Is he still there?” Harry asked, breaking through his reverie with as casual a tone as can be.

Eggsy blinked and stared into Harry’s face as his brain halted just enough to hear the clicking in the receiver, and he extended his hand like a bullet.

“Yes. Yes. Sorry, there.” 

Harry took it in time, Eggsy was just about to toss it and run. It didn’t make things easier when their fingers brushed, and Eggsy speed-walked out as awkwardly as it felt (knocking his knee into the cabinet dresser on the way out).

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

 

An hour later Eggsy was sad to see his friends go. They shared hugs back and forth, and Jamal and Ryan whispered soft words of encouragement and positive wishes. He appreciated the gesture and took it with a punch on the shoulder, trying to blush as little as he could when they went on about how great he had it, and that Harry seemed all right (and that they’d help him hide if he ever wanted to run away). They didn’t hint again for any of the more juicy details, seeming to realise how real this all was. They gave him supportive smiles instead, and made him promise to text soon.

“I gotta rush, gym needs to be opened. Thank you for the hospitality, Mr. Hart.” Roxy said, shaking Harry’s hand in the hallway.

“Ever the pleasure, my dear.”

Ryan hugged Eggsy one last time, cuffing him firmly on the back. “Gonna miss you, bruv.”

Eggsy hugged him back. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll see you guys soon.”

Jamal gave Harry a serious nod. “It’s great to meet you, sir.”

Ryan pulled back to stand next to him, fingers fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s um, well, Eggsy’s our friend and we, you know, we care ‘bout him, and er...”

Eggsy made a loud embarrassed sound and yanked open the door. “Fucking hell, get out. Roxy, please take them away.”

They filed out with last minute jokes and teases that resembled the old days, and Eggsy watched as they got in the taxi, and drove off. He only closed the door when the car disappeared, and became increasingly aware that he was alone with Harry. It suddenly felt so emphasised, so new, but that could definitely be because of the new image of Harry in his head. 

“Well, that was...interesting. Did you enjoy yourself?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I did. It was nice to see the boys again. And Roxy is really cool. She’s a good mate.”

Harry smiled, looking over him for a moment in a way that made Eggsy frown, then inclined his head and walked off. “Come.”

“What?” Eggsy asked, following Harry into the toilet where Harry pulled out the first aid kit. Eggsy touched his lip and looked into the mirror to see the cut. “Oh.”

He sat down on the toilet seat before being asked and folded his hands in his lap, and knocked his knees together as he waited. 

“I had planned a surprise for you today but now I’m afraid I should cancel it. Though that isn’t much of a better option...”

Eggsy blinked, and felt a rush of excitement bubble in his chest, as well as a simmer of affection. “What? What surprise?”

Harry sighed and took his jaw in one hand, and started dabbing his lip.

“I invited your mother over for dinner. Cooked all day yesterday. You mentioned wanting to do so but never did invite her. But now your busted lip may look a little...bad.”

“Oh. _Oh_! No! I mean, I used to come home roughed up all the time. She knows that.” Eggsy prattled with as much conviction as he could, smiling as the simmer turned into a full-blown steam. He winced when his cut pulled. “We took photos last night. I’ll show her and she’ll believe me.”

Harry pursed his lips, stepping in a little closer as he adjusted both hands. His fingers flexed around Eggsy’s chin, his knees touching Eggsy’s, and Eggsy’s legs inched open to accommodate like the first time, only with less blushing and more breathing.

“Still. You’re my responsibility. I shouldn’t be allowing anyone to ‘rough you up’.”

Blushing for numerous reasons and apathetic to the very fact, Eggsy just smiled naughtily and shrugged. “First, I can take care of myself. Second, it’s better than her thinking y’hit me. Much better, actually. And completely out of character, I’d totally throw that book away.”

Harry smiled, and Eggsy felt strangely triumphant to see a twinkle in his eyes.

“Your confidence in that is appreciated, thank you. Now stop talking so I can finish this.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes, blushing some more as his jaw burned from the very-normal-if-not-super-normal contact of Harry’s fingers, and let him finish up on his lip. When it was done Harry gave his jaw a finishing nudge and Eggsy immediately licked his funny-tasting lip while Harry packed away the solution and swabs.

There was a ‘thank you’ lodged in Eggsy’s throat, but somehow it seemed…out of place? It seemed almost…inconsequential. 

The more he stared at Harry’s back, feeling his phantom touch, the more Eggsy realised how much he appreciated the kindness he just received. But he felt like he shouldn’t have received it in the first place. He felt like Harry was supposed to be mad at him, and suddenly the memories of the night before dangled in tangles over the forefront of his mind. He remembered being on the stairs and being weird and randy, but mostly he’d been a weird miserable sod last night, and Harry had been there with him. Yeah, he’d definitely upset Harry last night, he just couldn’t remember exactly how. 

He stalled until the very last second, until Harry turned around and looked at him as if to ask why they were both still packed into the bathroom.

“Um...about last night... I’m sorry if I was weird. Whatever I said, I don’t remember much besides that I know—I think I maybe came onto you and y’got upset and I’m sorry. I’m not a pervert, I swear.”

Harry chuckled, easing the pressure in Eggsy’s chest, and looked at his shoes with the cutest smile. 

“Good, I was worried.” He teased, and when he looked up there was an unfamiliar plea in them that shot Eggsy’s protective nature through the roof for the first time in weeks, without counting last night with Roxy. “Neither am I.” Harry said, as though it were a long awaited-confession.

Eggsy nodded, the motion itself somehow adding on meaning and strength to his sprouting feelings. “And I believe you. Yeah?” He might have leaned forward, he wasn’t sure, but Harry just seemed so close and not in the bad way. He could almost feel the rumble of his chest when Harry replied.

“Thank you, Eggsy.”

The moment that followed turned out to be one of the more awkward ones Eggsy was becoming king of. He frowned at himself when he realised, quite plainly, he had been waiting for a kiss.

Eggsy turned away, head swivelling down and around and he veered out into the hallway where they could breathe without smelling one another. He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “So can mum still come?”

Harry followed him out silently, and gave an eventual nod. “If you would like that.”

“Yeah. And Daisy, yeah?”

“Of course. Although now that the cat is out of the bag I might as well suggest that we go buy a few things. Perhaps some gifts? There is a lovely women’s boutique and a children’s department in the shopping centre, if you know their sizes. Or I suppose we can make decent guesses.”

And Eggsy was back to staring like Harry had just announced he was in fact the Queen of England.

“...Okay, I believe you and I actually really do, but its things like this that make me ask _why_. It’s just really hard to swallow the legit ‘good guy’ thing, Harry.”

“Well, time to get ready. You can ponder that in gym.”

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

 

Whatever pills Harry had given them that morning worked like a charm. Eggsy made it through their session at gym well enough, finding just a few tender spots from the fight. Roxy was there too, looking all right and zipping about like she hadn’t worn literally killer heels all night. She didn’t have time to work out with him so he strayed back to Harry, and they went about together. Eggsy had long stopped holding himself back in an effort not to make Harry feel inadequate due to age, Harry was as fit as a fiddle. Eggsy could lift more weight than him, but only so much and even that was impressive. 

The session helped to give something Eggsy to focus on other than his fluttering feelings. But there was no denying it. He was having feelings for Harry. It didn’t register as a bad thing though, so it didn’t bother him other than prompt the usual blushing here and there.

When they were done they headed straight to the mall to find gifts for his mum and Daisy. And while Harry had suggested clothes, Eggsy’s first destination was the toy shop. It just couldn’t he helped, and he ended up spending a half an hour personally intrigued by all the fancy and cute toys kids had these days. 

He remembered those Super Mario games and Tamagachi gadgets and Pokemon toys, but he couldn’t say he hated the Xboxes, Robodogs and huge Minion plushies. Harry followed along after him isle after isle, commenting here and there as Eggsy verbally debated whether Daisy would prefer a purple Muppet teddy bear or Minion one. Harry voted the Minion one because the Muppet one had weird fuzz on it that seemed easily removable when handling and could result in choking, even with the warning label. 

After a sheepish smile and an armful of yellow, Eggsy let Harry take him to the clothing stores. They went for Daisy first, and Eggsy held his tongue when Harry started from the bottom. From tiny socks all the way to tiny sunhats. While Eggsy knew his mum would certainly love them and parade Daisy, he wanted to tell Harry not to bother because once she grew out of them he _knew_ she wouldn’t buy more of the kind to carry on dressing Daisy well. 

Not because she didn’t care, but because of the problems Dean would give her about wasting money on clothes, _like a typical woman_. Eggsy’s heart still clenched when he thought of that particular fight where his mum couldn’t buy one simple pretty dress for herself because it cost a little more than usual, as though she was doing it every day, as though she wasn’t worth it. As though her wants didn’t matter.

Well fuck Dean, because they were going to get her a whole bag full of dresses today, Daisy too. And Eggsy would get her more if anything happened to those. He would probably do that anyway, it wouldn’t bankrupt Harry if he bought Daisy a few outfits every few months as she grew. Mum too, _if_ she wanted them because honestly Eggsy could understand why she gave up trying to dress nicely. Why bother when Dean was waiting in the wings to spew insults, then making a dirty joke to his rat-pack about the shape of her arse in that particular outfit. He definitely wouldn’t try look anything special either. She was already beautiful enough anyway…

“Is this too much?” Harry asked as they stood in line with the full basket. The look on his face made Eggsy laugh; he looked inappropriately unsure of himself for what had to be the first time ever.

“No. But I think we should avoid the underwear department for mum.”

“Most definitely.”

Eggsy laughed again, and grinned as the cashier checked out the lovely clothing. It was a young lady, and she gave them a secret smile the entire time, one that Eggsy eventually realised to be one of those _oh my gosh it’s so cute_ ones. He frowned incredulously from her to the clothes and to Harry, the pieces falling in place and making _him_ look inappropriately unsure of himself this time. Harry caught it all too with one of his sly smiles, and dusted Eggsy’s shoulder unnecessarily, making the cashier make a funny little sound under her breath.

Tongue stuck in one of his burning cheeks, Eggsy tried to duck his face into the Minion until it was all over and Harry was leading him one shop over for Michelle.

And this time it was twice as worse.

The two shop assistants did nearly the same things, both coming over to offer their dual assistance to help them _find something just right_. The insinuation was more than obvious and Eggsy nearing died of mortification before Harry calmly, as though oblivious, explained they were gift shopping for his mother-in-law whom he was desperate to win over. 

Clearly there was something on Eggsy’s face causing all of this terror.

The women were surprised at first and quite obviously embarrassed before darting around as professionally as they could to pretend the exchange never happened. Eggsy bit his lip to death, still red in the face for a good while as they and Harry hung on his words as the final vote seeing as it was his mother they were shopping for. _Harry’s mother-in-law_ , oh fuck how weird that sounded, but it made Eggsy feel all the giddier.

It wasn’t as bad as it was though, especially with Harry acting so damn casual about it and softening the blow (though it didn’t stop Eggsy imagining himself looking ridiculous in a dress), and within the hour it was over. They had a couple of dresses and an armful of jeans and tops Eggsy thought she’d like. He threw in two pairs of ladies trainers in there too, he knew her feet hurt a lot. 

Harry paid with his own card, Eggsy belatedly realised (Harry had done that at the first two places too), and gave Eggsy a dismissive smile as though he knew what was on his mind. Eggsy sealed his lips and hugged the Minion closer, not even arguing when Harry carried all the bags out. 

They didn’t go food shopping like Eggsy thought they would, and he remembered the roast Harry had been making yesterday was in fact for this. How long ago had Harry made the plan? It made Eggsy all fuzzy inside just thinking of it, then twice as fuzzy for feeling something like _fuzzy_.

Harry left Eggsy to his own devices when they got home in favour of wrapping up the rest of dinner, making Eggsy a quick light snack for a late lunch complete with a glass of soda like he was twelve years old. Eggsy didn’t comment on that either, and sat feet propped up on the couch munching his sandwich as he watched a clip of something called Nikita on the laptop.

By the time it was four o’ clock Eggsy felt like a child that drowned in a tube of sugar and came back to life as a glucose-zombie. He was gnawing to the bone on his finger and pacing the hallway like a ghost as he waited for his mother and sister to arrive. Harry sent a Kingsman taxi for them, and idled around the archway of the dining room to watch Eggsy have a small freak out. Harry looked way too calm, Eggsy thought, and yet he knew he shouldn’t be panicking either. 

There was no reason to fret, none at all. His mom would love the house, the gifts, and she would love Harry. She certainly wouldn’t ask any probing questions and neither would she do anything to offend Harry in return. There was nothing to worry about, but Eggsy was still antsy by the time the taxi arrived, and he looked straight at Harry as if he needed guidance.

Wordlessly Harry moved forward, engaging Eggsy in the most intense eye-contact he’d ever had as he opened the door as though to keep him on his feet, and only severed the gaze so to present the world outside, and their guests. The moment Eggsy spotted his mum climbing out he jerked forward, stopping just behind Harry on the threshold as a rise of tears threatened him.

A blink later she was approaching them, looking well put together and in her best outfit. Eggsy clenched his jaw and started bouncing, a smile forming automatically when he saw Daisy in her arms.

“Mrs. Unwin.” Harry greeted when she reached the step, reaching out to clasp her hand. “Good evening. Please, come in.” 

Eggsy stepped back, and watched as Harry guided her inside like a prince to a princess. She blushed and accepted the courtesy, and Eggsy realised he’d never seen her make that face before. So pleasantly surprised, girlishly _shy_ and nervous. Although he did recognise the blushing—because it was the exact same face he knew he made.

“Hello. Thank you, Mr. Hart. Oh baby! Eggsy, come here!” 

And suddenly she was in his arms, hugging the life out of him. Her familiar deodorant rushed him and his arms fell around her, and he sighed heavily against her. Daisy squirmed between them and pawed at his face, and when they parted he cupped her head and kissed her, then turned to kiss his mum. 

“May I take your coat?” Harry asked when they parted, and Michelle flustered for a moment before nodding and passing Daisy to Eggsy to get the coat off. Harry helped it off, slowing her shaky movements and calming her obvious nervousness.

“This way mum.” Eggsy said afterwards, nodding towards the living room as planned so Harry could set the meal. Michelle gave Harry a parting smile and followed, hands quickly finding their way to her mouth.

“Oh my gosh. This is such a lovely home!”

“Told you you’d like it.”

“It’s beautiful! So cosy!” She exclaimed as she looked over everything, and there was a lot to look at. Eggsy still found new things everyday.

Harry reappeared then. “Please have a seat, Mrs. Unwin. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Oh yes, please.”

“The soda.” Eggsy reminded. 

Harry bowed like a butler, making Michelle giggle. “On the way.” 

As soon as he was gone she grabbed Eggsy’s arm and shook it, gesturing around with the other hand. 

“Eggsy, oh my gosh!” She hissed excitedly as they sat down together.

Eggsy smiled, eyelashes fluttering as he looked over her face, drinking in the familiarity and comfort. “I know. It’s good to see you, both of you. Miss you, sweetheart.” He whispered to Daisy, holding her close. She didn’t feel any lighter and it didn’t look like his mum had any fresh bruises, so perhaps everything was going all right.

It turned out Michelle’s mind was on the same track as she gave him her own look, rubbing his arm as she did so. “You look all right.”

“I am.” He said with as much conviction as he could.

She nodded, and they looked up as Harry returned with two glasses of soda, and a sippy cup that Eggsy had never seen before. It was filled with the strawberry milkshake Eggsy had bought last week, and Michelle touched her chest in awe when she realised Harry was actually literally holding a baby’s sippy cup filled with milkshake for Daisy.

Eggsy just outright stared, trying to figure out when that had been bought while Harry pointedly _Harry-ied_ him.

“Oh! Aw, thank you.” 

“I apologise for not having this dinner sooner, Mrs. Unwin. Eggsy wanted to settle first, it’s a very big adjustment.”

“No, of course. I understand. He made sure to call often. My sweet boy.” She patted his cheek, laughing when he burnt hot and took the sippy cup from her to give to Daisy.

Harry looked at his watch, then started out again. “Please excuse me. Just finishing with the casserole.”

As soon as he was gone Michelle leaned in, eyes big. “He really cooks?”

“He cooks.” Eggsy nodded, then he got up, adjusting Daisy, and retrieved all the shopping bags sitting around the opposite chair. He brought them to her feet, and put them down. “Mum, Harry and I got you some things. Just...just a few gifts.”

She gave him a look, one that meant she believed, yet couldn’t understand. He wondered how often Harry saw the same expression on him.

A short moment later of hesitation then she gave in, and looked through the bags with a rising shimmer of tears. She treated each bag with care, pulling out a few articles from each and running her fingers over them like they were spun gold. To them they were expensive clothes, but Eggsy had pulled off the price tags in good conscious that he didn’t have to worry, because Harry wasn’t worrying.

“Oh, they’re beautiful, Eggsy! Baby, you didn’t have to.” She hugged him tightly, a soft shirt crushed in her hand.

He bit back tears by smiling his _little shit_ smile. He was sure he failed anyway. “You’re my mum, of course I did. I wanted to. So did Harry.”

“This is...” She trailed off, then made a loud noise when she found the Minion, and all of Daisy’s clothes.

Eggsy nudged her playfully. “You think this is good, wait till the food is served.”

 

“Oh my gosh. This is amazing!”

Eggsy looked at Harry and grinned, then nodded at her. “I said the same.”

“Good grief. You are an excellent cook, Mr. Hart.” She said passionately, showing far more table etiquette than Eggsy had known she had, making him move him elbows off the table self-consciously. 

“Practice makes perfect. I’ve been doing my own cooking for many years. You learn all the tricks.”

“Has Eggsy been helping or mooching?”

“Mum!”

Harry smiled. “I cook, he cleans. Fair trade.”

She smiled proudly at Eggsy like he’d invented a cure for cancer, then turned back to Harry. 

“It was so nice of you to invite us. It’s so good to see my boy.” She patted Eggsy’s hand. “You look well. He looks well, thank you.”

The gratitude was so thick Eggsy thought he’d suffocate. Harry must have felt the same because he simply nodded in response, looking away into his wine glass.

“So er, how have things been?” Eggsy asked her.

“Oh good. Good... Dean bought the flat and another one down the hall, so he’ll make us rent money on that. And I took Daisy shopping and I got that lilac crib I always wanted...” 

For the next few minutes she went on, and Eggsy listened intently to his old life, the memories of what he left behind a sort of filter to his struggling ability to adapt to his new life. Her words reminded him that he wasn’t on Mars, that just down the road his reality still lived on.

Too soon she trailed off, having run out of things to say. Their lives hadn’t been very big, to be honest, and Eggsy didn’t try to probe for more.

“But enough about me. You two have been getting along then, yes?”

Eggsy’s answer was so genuine it slipped out without a thought. 

“Yeah, great.” He said, shrugging and looking at Harry for backup. Harry gave it instantly and _oh god was he about to think ‘handsomely’?_

“Marvellously.”

“And what do you do for a living, Mr. Hart? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Oh snap. Eggsy almost turned his entire body, and the movement got him looks from both his company. But fuck that, he’d been wondering the same since day one.

Harry looked at him when he answered after a guilty pause. “I work for Kingsman.”

“Oh.” Michelle said, pursing her lips in surprise.

Eggsy nearly toppled right over. “What?”

“I am a high level service hand. I specialise in few areas, so I do whatever is needed each day. Tailoring, interviews, sourcing, accounting, legal issues, security, et cetera.”

Eggsy just squinted some more, while Michelle sat up in interest. “Have you been with them for a long time?”

“I was twenty two when they took me on.”

“Holy shit.” Eggsy breathed, mind nearly booting itself back in time at the thought of it. 

He should have known, really (and he probably had), and suddenly he had a whole new curiosity on why Harry had chosen him. Maybe Harry really _had_ seen something in him like he said. If he worked in Kingsman all those years surely he must have learnt to separate the winners from the rotten eggs of those who signed up as potential brides. How many cases like his had Harry seen? Had Harry been in the building when he signed up a year ago? He couldn’t remember. And then what was with that whole thing with Merlin, _the customer comes first_ and whatnot? It didn’t have to be super secret did it? One of their employees wanted to get in on the action, case closed.

“I grew into whatever they needed.”

“That must have been a lovely offer. It seems to have done you well.”

“It did.” Harry said, and inclined ever so slightly towards her, leaving Eggsy to watch in awe as he shifted the attention smoothly and so fucking Harry-like, over to Michelle.

“How about you, Mrs. Unwin? Eggsy tells me you used to be quite the make up artist and hair dresser.” 

Harry should have developed a hole in his face by the time dessert was finished, Eggsy thought, because he hadn’t been able to stop staring. He was supposed to be staring at his mum, remembering her face and telling her how much he missed her, and he did—! But for a quick moment and then his eyes were back on Harry.

It seemed the feeling was mutual, because Michelle couldn’t take her eyes off of him either. 

By the end of the night she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like he’d never _ever_ seen her, smiling fucking _authentically_. Not even he had managed that in a good few years, and here comes Harry fucking Hart sweeping his mother off her feet and making her smile like only his dad ever had. 

And Eggsy tried to keep track of what Harry did so he could replicate it, he really did, but there was nothing special that he could find. 

Harry filled her glass whenever it emptied. He asked her details about the last thing he asked her. He acknowledged her replies and gave her his thoughts, avoiding any dark or gloomy areas. He complimented her choices in her stories and spoke as if he remembered exactly which hairstyles were in each year decades before Eggsy was even born. He nodded and smiled and chuckled, giving her his full undivided attention, save for the moments they turned to Eggsy to explain what they were talking about.

Eggsy didn’t contribute other than to nod dumbly and admire the open warmth on Harry’s face, and the glow of his mother,

He wished she could always look like that, even if she would poke at the crinkles that sprung to her eyes every time she smiled. He thought it was the most beautiful sight in the world, and he wished it was their reality. 

_Her reality._

Why wasn’t it her here in his place with Harry at her beck and call? Treating her as she deserved, past mistakes or not. She deserved this house to live in. She deserved a partner that would pay undivided attention to her. She also deserved the warm meal on the table. She deserved better than to go home to Dean, and be alone.

Eggsy hadn’t been the only one alone all these years, and the realisation hit him harder than he could manage. He downed an extra glass of wine before it forced him to his feet and he excused himself to the toilet, leaving Harry all to her as he hid to calm himself. 

It wasn’t fair. Nothing was ever fair. And neither was this, him hiding in the bathroom, biting back tears when he should be one happy fucking goose. Why couldn’t it ever just be easy? Why couldn’t he have been stupid and unable to see anything past his nose like half the people in the world, maybe then he’d be happier, simpler. 

 

Michelle left at eight. Daisy was already conking out on her shoulder, but not before Eggsy kissed her enough to remember for weeks to come. Harry and the driver loaded her gifts into the boot while Eggsy and Michelle said their goodbyes. 

It didn’t feel easier or harder this time, Eggsy wasn’t quite sure what it felt like. There was a whirlwind inside him. He wanted to snatch her and Daisy and drag them back inside and make them stay where it was warm and safe, but it was nothing more than a wild dream. She’d never do it, and if by some bizarre turn she did, Dean would sniff them out and bang down Harry’s door, and hurt them all.

Eggsy made her promise to text him once she made it home safely, and off they went. Harry’s presence was heavy behind him, but magnetic as Eggsy drifted back into the house with him.

 

An hour later and a half later of tidying up and dawdling, Eggsy finally crawled in bed. Harry was up and reading a book with a fancy title in cursive, glasses on and brow stitched. Harry put the book down as soon as Eggsy arrived, as though he’d been waiting for him, and took his glasses off to look at him. He put both objects on his cupboard and inclined his head in that way that always made Eggsy feel _heard_.

“Are you all right? You’ve been rather quiet.”

Eggsy nodded stiffly, then shook his head in the same manner because there was no use lying. But there was no answer he had to offer. 

Harry frowned at him and waited, and waited and waited as Eggsy looked around the bed, trying to find the lost words. How did he explain the hole in his chest? How did he explain the fading rush under his skin from seeing and embracing him mum and sister? How did he explain he wished he could give over his place to her, yet the thought made him break into a cold sweat? How did he explain he felt like he was floating in space, unable to grasp onto anything no matter how hard he tried?

A couple times Harry looked like he wanted to say something, but he never did. And Eggsy was all right with that, he didn’t want to hear any philosophical advice right now.

All he vaguely knew was that he wanted to be held, by arms instead of words.

There was no alternative, he was too dejected to feel self conscious as he crept forward and climbed onto Harry’s lap. He caught a flash of alarm across Harry’s face, but found his way onto Harry’s thighs without being shoved off, and he was immensely grateful. He didn’t push his luck either and settled just above Harry’s knees, hands in his lap, knees on either side of Harry’s thighs. And then he just sat, trying again to find the words, this time on Harry’s pyjama shirt.

It took a few moments but Harry relaxed, and continued to wait patiently.

Eventually, knowing he was beginning to waste time on a lost cause, Eggsy mumbled the loudest, simplest thing in his head. 

“...You was really nice to my mum today…”

“I was.”

“...That was nice of you… Things have been shit for her since...”

“Since your father died.”

Eggsy rubbed an eye. “Yeah. Pretty much… If she hasn’t started shooting that shit I bet it wouldn’t have been so bad... She could’a met someone else” _someone like you_ “someone nice. She’s a pretty lady...”

“She is.”

“And I was a good kid. ‘S not like she couldn’t have found someone to help her...”

Harry reached between them and touched Eggsy’s hand, wrapping two fingers around two of Eggsy’s when Eggsy’s palm twitched open.

“Your mother did what she needed to in order to keep going. It may not have been the best path but no one of us are the same…We can’t judge her.”

Eggsy stared at their joined hands, noting the vast differences.

“Yeah I know...” He nodded. But he still wished she hadn’t ended up where she did. He didn’t _want_ to blame her for how things turned out but there was (and would probably always be) that bit rotting away in the back of his mind. Thankfully, he didn’t have the anger or energy for that right now. There was nothing to feel but bitter numbness. He just wished there had been more mercy.

“Why are you sad, love?” Harry took his whole hand and squeezed it, tilting his head to try and catch Eggsy’s gaze. 

Rather than level him, the pressure on his hand made Eggsy’s lip tremble and he fell forward before he could give either of them notice, and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck. He buried his face away into his shoulder and focused solely on breathing to keep from crying. He’d stopped crying years ago, he wasn’t going to start now.

Like before Harry tensed, but it ebbed away in the passing moments until Harry was hugging him back, an arm around his waist and the other up the expanse of his back, curling over the base of his neck.

Eggsy’s breath stuttered at the feeling it invoked inside his chest and he went heavy, giving over his weight as well. He felt utterly protected and enveloped, as though all hell could break loose and he’d be perfectly fine, as long as Harry kept holding him. He couldn’t recall ever feeling like this, and he didn’t see why he should, considering all the facts of the situation—but he did.

The tremors inside him lessened faster this time and the brimming in his eyes calmed well enough until he was breathing properly again, opening his eyes to find a few tears had escaped anyway, pooling onto the damp fabric of Harry’s shoulder. He shut them again with a frustrated huff and wiped his face on his arm, sniffling softly.

Then he felt it. Pressure against his other shoulder. He stilled to take notice, and felt Harry kissing his shoulder.

No, it wasn’t kissing, Harry wasn’t moving his lips. All he did was press his mouth against Eggsy’s shoulder, hold for a moment before giving the inch besides it the same treatment. His eyes were closed and his face composed, but each movement was nothing short of near reverence, and Eggsy’s skin lit on fire, even through the silk of his pyjamas.

It took all he had not to make a sound, but he could feel his control slipping by the second. His core flushed warm and he quickly recognised the flare of arousal, though the foreplay towards it was really starting to make him wonder, even in his state. He’d never been one for the whole soft, gentle and loving thing, it never quite struck him as hot. An unexpected clash with an eager girl or guy in an empty blinking corridor at a party had always been the thing to spring him a dozen boners. This was so far from his kind of hard-on material he had to wonder if he was losing it.

The pressure in him increased as Harry continued on a slow predictable rhythm. Quickly it wasn’t enough and Eggsy pressed his head back down into Harry’s shoulder, and kissed the damp patch he’d made. He breathed deeply, nose smushed, then turned his head and kissed a little closer to Harry’s collar.

The action itself of kissing down onto a warm body made Eggsy shiver and he did it again, even closer to the front opening of Harry’s shirt, sucking in another hurried breath through his nose. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, and he wondered if Harry could hear it.

But then suddenly there were hands on his arms, pushing him back. His fingers caught unsuccessfully on Harry’s clothing as he sat back, but his hands managed to keep a place on Harry’s chest.

Harry met him with that closed off, disapproving look, as though what they were doing was wrong. 

No, his mum going home to that prick was wrong. What Eggsy had gone through before this new life was wrong.

 _This_ was right, and Eggsy shifted forward to prove it. He clenched his jaw and ignored the furrowing of Harry’s brow and squirmed his way right up so his knees were around Harry’s hips and his arse in Harry’s crotch. He nonchalantly shrugged off Harry’s hands, sniffing stubbornly and drew his hands down Harry’s chest a little, remembering how it looked bare and damp.

“It’s been like, two weeks.” He said when it was apparent Harry wasn’t going to speak.

When Harry answered his voice was reserved. “Since what?”

“Since...haven’t you been thinking about it?”

For a moment Eggsy was sure Harry was going to plead plausible deniability, as much as that would’ve pissed him off, because he hadn’t stopped thinking about that kiss for the first fucking week. Even then it took his new friendship with Roxy and her distractions to help him cool down. It had burnt into his memory like a correlated pair of shears, whether Harry had planned for that or not. By now Eggsy knew Harry would suggest the latter, but two weeks later and Eggsy still touched his neck, even at the most idle times.

Instead of answering, or worse trying to push him off again, Harry settled his hands on Eggsy’s waist in the lightest way possible.

“Has it worried you?”

“No. Not like you thinking. And I’m grateful that you thinking of that, of me. I get it. I ain’t even exaggerating, or being sarcastic, I swear.” He believed Harry was trying to be decent, but there was a growing part of him that was tired of it. He needed that something to happen, to get rid of all the ants crawling beneath his skin like they had since that morning, since the night before, since as long as Eggsy could remember.

Harry didn’t look pacified, and proved so when Eggsy dipped in by evading the kiss. Eggsy grumbled as Harry turned his head, face hard and closed. 

“Why?” he asked irritably, leaning to force Harry’s gaze.

Harry looked back at him with his own flare of annoyance, but his hands squeezed minutely at Eggsy’s side and he kept his cool. 

“It’s too soon.” He said, frustratingly calm.

“But I’m offering. I’m starting it.”

“You’re wallowing in nostalgic grief and gratitude. This is not the instance I talked about. To you this would be nothing more than a repayment.”

Eggsy started to breathe a little harder, shaking his head. “That’s not true.” They were so close. Harry was so warm, why couldn’t Eggsy just feel him? Why was it so hard? Why was everything so complicated?

“Isn’t it?” Harry shot back, and Eggsy threw his hands up.

“Okay yeah, fine. I am grateful. But I feel good. I feel good’n happy an’ grateful f’everything and its all because’a you. What’s wrong with me wanting to show you? I’m not playing, Harry. You driving me fuckin’ bonkers. I can’t fake this.” He poked at his chest, willing Harry to understand, when he realised using his arousal would get the point across better. He flattened his remaining palm against Harry’s chest and rubbed his hips forward into Harry, exhaling sharply through his nose at the immediate wave of pleasure that shot to the ends of his fingers and toes, leaving a hot trail through his arms and thighs. 

Fuck he was horny. He was so fucking horny, hornier than he realised as if it had been building all day, and his hesitant erection filled within seconds as he pressed against Harry’s still very stiff body.

“...Having a wank is not forbidden when married, if I may remind you.” Harry said with the funniest mix of worry and amusement, as if he’d thought Eggsy had been completely celibate this whole time.

“ _Oh my god_. Yeah, I know! But I wouldn’t still bring this up if that solved everything.” Eggsy complained, and rubbed his hands over his burning face. “S not like I do this all the time. I’m taking a leap here. You could meet me half way.” He said as he dropped them, suddenly feeling exhausted, but out of his mind with desire at the same time. 

Then Harry made it a million times worse by giving his hips another squeeze, one that implemented all his gloriously talented fingers, and a generous amount of eye contact that made nearly made Eggsy cock-eyed.

“You’re a lovely boy, Eggsy.” he said, _whispered_ , as though someone could be spying. 

The spiking inside Eggsy shot through the roof and he whined, rocking forward in little increments because he could still feel the warning in Harry’s hands. 

“Not that lovely if-if no one was interested for a whole year, if it took an employee to want me...”

“…That was your record. Not you.” Harry lifted his hands, lightly trailing them up Eggsy’s body, a teasingly innocent touch, so he could cup his face, infuriatingly tender. “ _You_ are sweet and kind and intelligent, and you can be quite well mannered when you choose to be. I like the way you speak to Roxy.”

Eggsy shook his head and grabbed onto Harry’s wrists, thighs flexing in effort to keep himself from rutting the way his body was screaming for. “You’re changing the subject.”

“Because I need to.” Harry sighed, and then continued before Eggsy could speak. “I acknowledge your initiative, my darling, but it’s too soon.” He paused, face flickering as Eggsy moaned at the endearment and pressed forward again, and rubbed Eggsy’s cheeks with his thumbs, gentle and kind. “And I appreciate it. I do, Eggsy.”

The hint was more than obvious, a hint only because Eggsy didn’t want to call it an order, or worse a rejection. 

Eggsy looked over Harry’s face, trying desperately to find something giving, anything, but Harry was ever the master of control. Eggsy slumped in defeat, too tired to fight on. 

“I just wish you would tell me why.” He mumbled, and turned to get off.

He didn’t make it far. 

There was pressure around his waist and he looked down, and Harry’s hands were back. He looked up into Harry’s eyes, knowing he looked about as miserable as he felt.

As well as wanton.

But a shudder assaulted him as he met a dark look on Harry’s face. Its sudden appearance made him blink and still with an immediate burst of anticipation, because he knew that look. He had that same look right now, only his was weakened by his melancholy. Harry’s was held taunt by whatever reason he had for avoiding this subject, but it was shining through now and it was only because Harry was allowing it.

His breath picked up again along with his hope, and he settled back down heavily in Harry’s lap.

“Hold me?” he asked in a whisper, wanting many unfathomable things, but needing this with inexplicable desire.

And this time Harry didn’t reject him. He pulled him in, a clench of his jaw all Eggsy saw before resting his head against Harry’s shoulder once again. They wrapped their arms around each other and held tight, and Eggsy hummed deeply at the bone-deep relief it brought. It felt like every worry lifted from his shoulders, and the road ahead was clear, even if the destination wasn’t.

Why? Why was he feeling like this? Was it really just grief and gratitude? Or was Harry feeling the same? Was he feeling something else? Was he feeling anything?

Eggsy’s arms tightened at the thought of Harry feeling nothing, bringing them closer than should be physically possible. There was no space between them and he could practically taste Harry each time he breathed in, a tantalising scent laced with soap and Harry’s natural scent. And while it calmed the shrouded worries inside Eggsy, it was letting his desires creep forward with every delicious breath until he was squirming.

At first it was unnoticeable to him, little shifts to get comfortable, to burrow closer, to ease the angle of his legs, but when Harry petted the back of his head as a gesture to calm him Eggsy realised he was fidgeting. He felt Harry turning to look at him, petting soothing circles into his back and hair that was quickly igniting the lingering sparks of arousal inside him. His cock stirred between them, brazen, and he groaned as a thick wave of need churned in his gut and burnt through his chest.

His hips rocked forwards before he could stop them, but the reward was well worth it. He moaned against Harry’s shoulder and clung tighter, toes curling as he pressed his straining bulge into Harry’s stomach. The pleasure sped through him faster than any bullet, stronger than any drug, and instantly more effective. 

Before the pulse of pleasure dissipated he repeated the motion for the second wave, creating a beautiful ripple deep throughout his being.

A loud desperate sound spilled from his mouth and he hunched in dread, clenching his eyes and waiting for Harry to push him away. It was coming any second, he could feel every part of Harry’s tense body. He closed his eyes tighter and held still as if doing so would hold back the moment, as though time would stop and let him wallow, as Harry so put it, only this time he’d wallow in the desperate frazzled need he was experiencing. 

But it was worth it for this, for the momentary relief of the fierce burning inside him. It wasn’t about payment, it wasn’t. It was about him, it was about Harry. Harry, who was still holding him, motionless, but still holding him close, snug and locked.

Eggsy made an effort to evaluate what was happening: which was nothing. Harry’s arms were still around him, his hands and fingers pressing into their places of purchase, and his soft breath on Eggsy’s left shoulder. Eggsy was still flattened and curled around Harry like a boa, breathing wetly against Harry’s shoulder, groin burning and pressed up against Harry’s firm stomach.

He held still, frowning into the dim light through blurred eyes as he breathed, and breathed, and breathed. 

Time seemed to stand still, excruciating and suffocating.

Then Harry gave his neck a tiny squeeze, and primal beast lurking under Eggsy’s skin recognised it for the prompt it was.

_It’s all right._

_Go on._

It was no more than a squeeze, but somehow the pressure from Harry’s finger tips and the added tug towards his body told Eggsy’s shaking senses everything he needed to know. He let it take him, closing his eyes away from doubt, from rejection, from anything but Harry.

The first thrust was stuttered and nervous, a last experiment, and Harry completed it by grabbing Eggsy by both hips and pulling him down to meet him half way.

Eggsy choked as their hips collided in a solid bump, knocking the air straight out of him. He scrambled for grip as though he’d stepped off a building, his body jolting with _life_. He ground down as quickly as he could and was rewarded with Harry’s fingers digging into his waist, drawing him down into the warm seat of Harry’s increasingly hardening lap.

As if his heart wasn’t racing fast enough, Eggsy’s heart took to the speed of light when he realised Harry was getting just as hard as he was. He groaned something that might have been a curse and rolled his hips to keep it that way. Down and around and down again in a heady rhythm that worked like a charm, and he moaned as Harry’s body stiffened entirely and he fought for purchase against Eggsy’s sides. 

The nature of the fabric made it difficult to keep purchase, his hands kept slipping so Eggsy knew it was coming before it did but he still moaned all the same when Harry’s hands found their way just beneath his pyjama shirt and around his hips. They latched on tight and remained there like smouldering locks, and Eggsy bounced as Harry suddenly lifted his knees a little for better leverage before rejoining the rutting with a little more enthusiasm.

There were no words to describe it. Eggsy could barely remember his old address.

He could feel the firmness of Harry’s length beneath him in clear clarity thanks to their thin night clothes, hard and straining as Eggsy rubbed his arse onto it. He did it enough that it started wearing a path right between his cheeks to which the silk became the perfect accomplice, moulding easily and helping them move fluidly and sensually. 

_Them_ , for Harry was very much participating, and Eggsy’s yearning was very much placated.

At some point his hands found their way flat onto the headboard on either side of Harry’s head, and he used the foundation to push himself back, rutting down onto Harry’s cock then rolling up to rub his own cock against Harry’s stomach. The positioning was somehow achingly filthy and all Eggsy could do was pant against Harry’s shoulder, until he realised Harry’s neck was right there.

It took him a few indecisive moments in which he used to peek his open his eyes and turn to look at Harry. The older man had his eyes closed too, lips parted just so as he seemed to be taking timed breaths that didn’t match the dedicated undulating of his lower body. His hair was messed a little, so out of place for him, and it served as unnecessary evidence that this was actually happening.

The bedding was rustling, the sound foreign and erotic and _real_ as it accented their sensual joining. Their breathing was loud in the quiet of the night, fighting for space with the sound of the bedding. Eggsy’s was louder and now directed into Harry’s neck, hot puffs as he tried not to suffocate in his single-minded chase. 

When he swallowed it seemed loud as well, but not louder than the sounds that escaped him periodically whenever he swirled and squeezed the tip of his cock into a particular tight spot between them. The action made his hips stutter back at the pleasurable shock of it, right back onto Harry’s lap and he revelled in the added strength that came with Harry’s next thrust.

Fucking hell Harry was stiff, in every way. Eggsy had never realised just how solid he was, even after all their days at gym. He’d never got to touch it, feel it or test it. Harry was unyielding, an unbreakable living slab beneath him that took his hard rutting with little more than a tight grip on his waist. 

The only evidence Eggsy had that Harry was actually into this was by his erection, otherwise he was tense and stoic, moving methodically whereas Eggsy moved fiercely, save for the times when Eggsy did a little extra something as he ground his arse into Harry’s crotch. There were only a few instances when Eggsy was sure he’d pushed Harry a little over his line of control, earning him a brief bruising squeeze or a single stronger thrust.

Eggsy only saw the distinction after a couple minutes of going at it, but Harry was allowing this _and_ still participating so he was not going to complain if Harry kept falling back in line. He was already getting more than Harry usually gave and he wasn’t going to ruin the moment by doing something stupid. That didn’t narrow the possibilities down though, and his body clamped down at the thought of Harry stopping them.

The second thought was that he almost couldn’t remember how or when this started, almost as if it was a dream. He didn’t want it to be. He didn’t want it to turn into a nightmare either, but if this was just all in his mind then it needed to end on his terms and soon, because dreams didn’t last forever.

He was a jitter away from rutting again when he noticed Harry had stilled too. He didn’t move again for a breathless few moments, the urge there but...

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, breaking gently into the quiet of the room. 

Eggsy flinched, then tightened his grip, realising his arms had made their way back around Harry’s neck, over his wide shoulders— _so fucking wide_. He took the opportunity and buried his face back into his shoulder, face hot and shoulders tense, and nodded because he knew Harry would appreciate the reassurance.

“Y-yeah. I just—I just dunno if...if-if...f-finishing in the bathroom or here is-is less...less...if...”

Harry turned his face and brushed his nose against Eggsy’s ear, inciting a weak shiver from him. 

“Would you like it if I went downstairs?” he asked as he slipped his hands out from under Eggsy’s shirt and petted down his sides, swinging from sexual to platonic so fast Eggsy feared he might get whiplash.

“No...” Eggsy ground out, and turned his head to look at Harry in the eyes. 

It was then that he realised the lamp on Harry’s side was still on, allowing him to see Harry’s eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust despite the tough reins Harry had on it. Eggsy shuddered being so close to its rarity, and shifting a little so he could feel its hard physical manifestation beneath him. He licked his dry lips and swallowed, pressing down gently.

“...You close?” 

Harry titled his head and this time kissed against Eggsy’s temple, then he whispered. “Don’t worry about me.”

Eggsy’s eyes fluttered at the kiss, his breath snatched away. “Why?”

“Just don’t.” Harry insisted, and then smartly silenced any budding protests by sliding his hands back beneath the silk to paw at Eggsy’s hips. He turned his mouth back into Eggsy’s ear, eyes closed and face serene. “Relax, sweet boy. All right? Take what you need.”

Eggsy choked and scrubbed his face into Harry’s shoulder, the words striking him where it hurt most. “ _Harry_...” 

“Hmm, like that. Good...beautiful boy...” 

Harry’s hands never strayed from his hips. Eggsy wanted them to reach back just a bit further and cup his arse, but Harry kept a firm hold and thankfully it was more than enough when he used it to pull Eggsy down against him, bumping and grinding their tingling bodies together. They were far from naked but it was somehow still completely filthy. Eggsy could feel every delicious inch of Harry’s cock pressed up against his arse and balls, igniting every nerve from his spine into the base of his neck.

By now Eggsy’s body had been teased to bits and he was too weak to hold on for much longer. Everything was ridiculously pronounced; the heat of their connecting bodies, the exquisite slide of the cool fabric over their warm skin, the sound of their short hot breaths, the strength in their bodies. This too was another thing Eggsy had never thought of as attractive, and he realised with a broken laugh just how clichéd it was for Harry to be teaching him new dirty things.

With both of Harry’s hands digging into his hips and bringing him down against the upwards roll of Harry’s Eggsy was free to focus on grinding frantically towards his climax. He knew he was probably heavy and burning like a furnace draped over Harry’s body like he was, but the man never said a thing about it as he kept talking, kept whispering, murmuring pretty names and stupid fucking endearments. Again, not what Eggsy was used to or suspected to be up his alley, but it broken him down anyway into a thousand-pieced jigsaw puzzle.

He lost it all the moment Harry turned into his ear, grinding up against Eggsy with a particularly mind-blowing circular motion and whispered in a voice that dripped sin, “ _Does it feel good, little darling?_ ”

The clash of arousal and incredulity slammed Eggsy into next week, and he came harder than he thought humanly possible. 

Of course it felt good, and he answered that dirty suggestive utterly _mental_ question by exclaiming loudly into Harry’s neck, fucking forward as hard as he could. Whatever was in his hands was sure to bruise or break, his arms and legs straining as his climax took him. He came in his underwear, completely messing it all around as he ground and rubbed and downright _used_ whatever he could get. 

Throughout it all Harry didn’t stop, hands tightening and thrusts increasing until Eggsy’s high peaked and then wore down, and then they too ebbed low into that of soft rolling hills.

Eggsy collapsed entirely. Mouth parted, eyes closed and limbs limp he panted into Harry’s neck. The grip on his hips lessened until he felt the ache of their removal. He moaned at the light sting, then moaned again when those same hands came up and wrapped around his body, right back into their original position.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, and went limp as well, relaxing into the bed. He took a deep breath that made Eggsy’s body rise then fall, then tilted his face and kissed Eggsy’s sweaty temple.

Eggsy was too fucked out to respond and acknowledge the action other than making a small sound. He was very nearly asleep when Harry nudged him.

“You need to change, love.” 

Eggsy made another sound, a negative one. 

“I’m afraid you have to. I can’t do it this time.” Harry said, giving him a full bodied squeeze before he heaved them both up.

Eggsy complained incoherently in the back of his throat, but put effort into remaining upright without knocking them back over again. 

There was a hand on his one knee, then the leg lifted, and Eggsy slumped over with it so Harry could escape from under him. Immediately Harry pulled him off the bed by his arm, pausing to untangle his one foot as it caught in the rumpled bedding. Eggsy forced his eyes open and watched distantly, too drained to feel—let alone show—any response, and shambled towards the bathroom when Harry nudged him again.

Harry left him standing in the small bright room as he went back to fetch him clean everything, and then left him to sort it out with yet another kiss to his temple. Eggsy leaned into it wordlessly, sensing a slightly distinction in it from the others, but it comforted him all the same.

After cleaning himself and changing Eggsy crept back into the bedroom, but it was empty. He stood idle for a few moments, swaying on his feet and blinking at the door, but he remained alone.

The lure for sleep quickly became too strong and he climbed back into bed, asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wrote this and like a day later wrote a dirty oneshot that is almost like this, except an AU version where they’re both whores. It’s on my page if you’re curious and this wasn’t enough. I don’t even know i’ve stared at this all week halp


	9. A Gentleman is a Patient Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So everyone thoroughly enjoyed last chapter, I was insanely fucking relieved. Once you read your own work too much, it suddenly isn’t so great.
> 
> But I know ( _internally self-gnawing_ )this chapter will tickle your fancies as well, fucking enjoy~~~
> 
> Also, fucking THANK YOU to the amazing support. Support is what a writer lives off. I didn’t expect this fic to be quite so enjoyed. ...why am i swearing so much
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

** Chapter 9: A Gentleman is a Patient Wolf **

 

Eggsy woke a few minutes later than usual the next morning. 

Harry was already dressed and putting on his watch by the time Eggsy sat up to the bright rays of then sun through the blinds, eyes small and body heavy. Harry’s side of the bed was made and Eggsy could smell his cologne in the air, and fuck if that didn’t wake up his dick faster than his brain.

“Good morning, Eggsy. Sleep well?” Harry asked as he finished securing his watch over his wrist. 

Still too sleep drunk to even wonder if he should feel shy or not, mind casually throwing him hazy images of last night, he nodded. “Good. ‘N you?”

Harry smiled and put his glasses on. “Exceptional. See you downstairs.”

With all the blood pooling in his morning glory Eggsy still managed to blush. Harry didn’t stall and torment him, and left the room with his neutral smiling to hopefully whip up another perfect breakfast. Eggsy was official food dependent, and he couldn’t give a single fuck. 

Eggsy flopped back down and chuckled to himself, rubbing his palms over his hot face as he pressed back into the bed and stretched out his limbs. 

_They’d fucking dry-humped_. 

And it was so fucking _good_. Fucking hell. It was real. They’d done it. And it was so bloody good, his blood was still sizzling and eager to regroup below the belt.

Eggsy rolled over onto his stomach with a guttural groan as his cock stiffened painfully, quickly becoming the most demanding erection he’d gotten in all his time here. He could feel Harry’s hands back around his hips, his phantom touch burnt into the layers of Eggsy’s skin as though he might have bruises. He rolled his hips lazily into the bed and inhaled deeply as the pleasure soaked in like a drug, Harry’s scent everywhere and far more appealing than Eggsy previously acknowledged.

Fuck, it was almost unbelievable. How had he convinced Harry? What had he done? Would it happen again? How could he make it happen again? How soon was too soon? 

Wait, had Harry even gotten off? No…no he hadn’t. Eggsy was sure he would’ve remembered if Harry had, his orgasm own had probably woke the neighbours—oh fuck he came in Harry’s lap like a little slut.

The thought made him twice as hard. 

_Little darling_

Thrice as hard.

And Harry had the audacity to act so casual this morning. If Eggsy had to choose a word, he’d shout blasphemy.

Harry wasn’t in bed when Eggsy crawled back in last night so he had probably sneaked off to the downstairs toilet. But why? Eggsy wouldn’t have minded if Harry had reached climax with him after what they’d done. Then again Harry wouldn’t even let him kiss him... What was this all about? It surely couldn’t be about it being ‘too soon’, that was bullshit. Harry could’ve shut him down with the whole _it’s for your own good_ thing (even if that was stupid) instead of giving in like he had, because come on, how was clothed sex less intimate than kissing? One little climax wouldn’t have scarred him, not after how he must have scarred Harry with his frantic thrusting…

Hell, what did Harry think about this?

Eggsy was so confused, but far too turned on and weirdly empowered to care. There was no way Harry hadn’t disappeared to wank off last night. Eggsy had felt his hard on. Harry had been just as stiff as he was. Holy shit, now he couldn’t get the image out of his head.

Did Harry like to draw it out, or get through it quickly? Did he prefer short or long strokes? Did Harry fondle himself in other places, or find enough pleasure from his cock? Was he cut or uncut? Hairy or trimmed? Long, short, thin, fat? Did Harry catch his cum with tissue, or did he like it messy and dribbled down his fingers? How long would it be until Eggsy could find out, until it was no longer too soon?

“Fuck…” Eggsy groaned, rutting like a teenager into the bedding and ruining Harry’s side in the process. He kept at it, rolling his cock into the firm heat beneath him and spurred himself into a lazy climax, careless about the open door. He ruined his second pair of underwear without an ounce of regret, his muscles waking pleasantly as his blood rushed through him. His pulse felt abnormally pronounced in his neck, the very spot where Harry had kissed him that time.

“ _Fuck me_ …” Eggsy droned in acknowledged defeat, slumped and lazy. This was not what he prepared for when signing those damn papers, but hell if he wasn’t starting to wish Harry hadn’t taken him sooner.

 

Scrambled eggs and bacon was the special of the day. Eggsy ate enthusiastically like he always did, downing a warm cup of coffee while Harry sipped his tea. 

There was an unmistakeable vibrancy in the air this morning, and it was definitely no secret. Every time they made eye contact Eggsy knew what Harry was thinking of, because he was thinking of it too—or he thought he did. And if he caught a few sneak peeks from Harry that looked suspiciously like worry, he made sure to look all the brighter.

Harry had made it clear he had his weird boundaries, and if keeping to them meant a chance at another round like last night then Eggsy thought it was definitely worth the effort to stay in line. ‘Wife-Life’, after all, an idea that he had forgotten for the most part with Harry constantly distracting him from trying to ‘earn’ his keep. So he reined back his grins and sex-eyes and played pretend. It was easier once he had Harry’s example to follow; he could bet Harry could get his dick sucked under a table at a world conference and not give anything away.

The eggs were perfect and the bacon was juicy, but they only added to the boundless energy that was trapped in Eggsy’s shoulders. He tried not to fidget too much or stare at Harry, or his hands, or imagine himself sitting in Harry’s lap right a the table, and tried to focus on eating breakfast like a normal married couple who had normal sex every night because it was all very normal so normal why was normal so hard right now heh hard _oh god_

Whether it was Harry being shy, regretful or cruel, he didn’t say much as they ate. He had on his usual cool as a cumber demeanour, save for a small knowing glint in his eyes that Eggsy was sure he wouldn’t be able to see if Harry didn’t want him to. The look itself he couldn’t quite decipher other than knowing what caused it, but he couldn’t decide if it was silent longing or worrisome observation. Maybe it was both. 

When Eggsy couldn’t take it anymore he spoke, swinging his feet. 

“So, what are we doing today?”

Harry looked coolly at him, a far picture from that hidden devil that sprung out last night to bruise his hips—he had actual bruises, light fleeting ones, and they were going to be wank material if Harry didn’t make some more soon. 

“What do you feel like?”

“Let’s see…horseback riding, fencing, oh and art viewing…” Eggsy trailed off, lips pouted out dramatically in thought. When Harry smiled he shrugged. “I have no idea. We can go clubbing. Teach ya how to break dance.”

Harry chuckled. “You can break dance?”

“I’mma quick learner.”

Harry moved his teaspoon idly around his teacup. “I’m not one for clubbing, which I am sure is obvious.”

“Okay, what d’you wanna do then? Go ballroom dancing?”

Harry’s expression flicked and he raised a thoughtful brow to the side, hand stilling.

When he didn’t respond Eggsy chortled in surprise. 

“Seriously? Wait, you can do all those types’a dances? For real?” All right stupid question, but who didn’t imagine ballroom dancing at some point in their lives? He sure had when imagining himself rich and famous, gliding across a ballroom with a pretty lady, dressed up and wowing the crowd, his ego bigger than the rocks on her fingers. 

Although now seeing as he was married to a rich posh bloke, shouldn’t he be learning those kinds of dances anyway? Lessons were expensive, he knew that, but he also knew it wouldn’t apply to him. Not any more. Holy shit he needed to word-vomit to Harry more often, it was getting him places. At home all it got him were punches.

“I can. Does it sound like something you’d be interested in trying?”

“Yeah, yeah definitely. Always wanted to waltz. Can’t promise I won’t step on your toes though.”

Harry smiled a handsome (but completely illegal) smile at him, and took his breath away as if his cologne hadn’t done that enough. 

“Good thing my shoes are hardy.”

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXx**

 

A short ride to the other end of the suburb and Harry ushered him into the dance place. There was a man at the front desk who gestured them without a word into one of the three doors available. One other one was open and contained a bunch of little girls and their instructor, pink tutus on and in the middle of stretches. Eggsy wondered how much classes were, and whether Daisy would ever want to go.

Their room was empty, the same size, and stunningly beautiful. The walls facing the streets were lined with windows, and the inner walls lined with full length mirrors. There was a ballet stand along it, and benches off to the sides, and a water dispenser. The floors were some kind of polished wood, gleaming and looking like a prime victim for sliding on with socks. 

“Where is everyone?” he asked as Harry closed the doors behind them

“I rented the studio for us for a couple of hours. I thought you’d feel more comfortable without an audience.”

Eggsy smiled, this time expecting the skipped beat in his chest. “Yeah, probably. But you sure I’m okay in these clothes?”

“I did bring other shoes along.” Harry gestured to the bag in his hand, then to the nearest bench. Eggsy took the hint and sat down to pull of his trainers.

“Standard dance shoes for a man are lace up Oxfords with a flat heel. Latin dances usually make use of a heel, but we’ll start simple. Your clothes are fine for practice but your trainers will probably twist your ankles, so best put these on.”

Harry handed him his Oxfords, one at a time. Eggsy put them on quickly, admiring the way they looked on his feet as Harry put away his trainers. He stood up and glanced into the mirror, chuckling to himself at the odd combination of blue jeans and Oxfords. It did sort of compliment his legs though, and he wondered if Harry thought so too.

“We gonna use music?” Eggsy asked when he turned back, skipping after Harry towards the middle of the dance floor. The room was lit and shiny, oozing privilege and respect. 

“No. It’s not necessary and will distract you.” Harry waited for Eggsy to raise an objection, and then continued at Eggsy’s nod. “All right. The very first thing we need is to decide who will lead.”

Eggsy frowned and gestured a hand at Harry.

Harry raised his brows a little, looking closely at him. “Are you all right with that?”

“Yeah.” Eggsy said, unsurely. He shrugged. “Shouldn’t the lead have more experience?”

Harry beamed. “Very good.” 

“So what dance are we doing?” Eggsy asked, resorting to biting his bottom lip to fend off the grins and blushes. How big until the elephant in the room became _too_ big?

“The basic waltz.” Harry straightened suddenly, if that was any more possible, and Eggsy followed after comically. “Good posture is key. Back straight, shoulders back. No slouching.”

“I try.”

“Now, as the lead one must make sure their posture and frame is especially steady or they’ll be waving all over the room. The idea is for us to connect and be able to communicate as a single form. When I move you should be able to tell in which direction I want you to go, and be able to do so. It’s all about balance and trust. And of course a good frame and that means arms as well. Right hand out.” 

Eggsy held out his right hand, and Harry took it and held their arms out. “I take your right with my left. Put your left hand here,” he lifted Eggsy’s left hand to his arm, and slid his corresponding arm around Eggsy’s back, “and my right hand to your shoulder blade. See my arm? Elbow stays firm. Hands not too tight. Feet apart, Eggsy. That’s right.”

Eggsy licked his lips as he focused, trying his best to learn rather than stare blankly at Harry’s face and enjoy the physical contact like a simple single-celled organism. If he was failing to do so Harry didn’t point him out, so he kept at it, even if they were now about to waltz _fucking fuck how did his life become this_...

“One leads with the body, not the arms. So by maintaining a firm upright posture we’ll be able to effectively communicate.” Harry squeezed his hand and unnecessarily tensed his arms to make a point, allowing Eggsy a moment to make sure his arms were held up properly too. “You’ll feel my lead through the motion of my body, not through my arms. When we change roles you’ll see what I mean.”

Eggsy’s brows shot up into his hairline. “We’ll swop?”

“It’s imperative to learn both roles. Ballroom dancing is a motion of equals. One should honour each.” 

Eggsy laughed in honest pleasant surprise, and then straightened a little more to show he was ready. “Dean would clout us for even thinking it.”

“Only because he never thinks and might feel jealous of the ability. Now, are you ready to try?”

“Oh yeah.”

Harry flexed his fingers and leaned back just a bit to increase the space between them. “It’s a three step motion. We start with my left foot forward, your right foot back. I side step out to my right, you follow to your left. It’s the same direction. Then close the gap. Look at my feet. Three steps and repeat. Think you can remember that?”

Eggsy nodded at their feet, lifting onto the balls of his feet respectively. “Right back, to the left, close the gap. Got it.”

“All right. Ready?” Harry closed the space between them, looking taller and prouder than usual, like a peacock showing off his feathers. And like an impressed peahen, Eggsy couldn’t look away. He couldn’t help all his grinning, knowing his eyes were twinkling like a little fucking kid at Christmas. Happier than he had been at many Christmases, that’s for sure.

He puffed out his chest to match Harry’s stance and nodded, excited beyond belief.

“Ready.”

Harry smiled, and Eggsy’s world shifted as Harry moved towards him. He took a quick step back with his right, and stepped to the left with Harry. They completed the third step by closing the gap, and Harry stopped there, barely containing a wide smile of his own. Eggsy didn’t even try, and was all teeth as they started again.

It was almost like magic. 

Or butterflies _oooh man there were butterflies in his stomach fuuuck fucking stupid butterflies_

It was a simple movement and Harry went slowly, but he was right about silent unanimous communication. It was near mind-blowing to be able to move in the direction Harry wanted simply by focusing on the way they moved. No words, and even less facial prompts as Eggsy looked all over their bodies, making sure to soak it all it. 

If he’d asked himself a month ago (and he had) where he’d be in a couple weeks he would’ve said back on Smith with Dean’s hand curled around his neck. Never in his wildest dreams could he have even imagined he’d be snug against Harry’s chest, held like something precious and sailing around an actual dance studio with Oxfords on his feet and smiling ear-to-arsehole like a prince.

His thoughts led him off track and he lost count, breaking their rhythm with a stumble and a soft curse.

“That’s all right. Bend the knees a little as you step.” Was all Harry said, reaffirming their stance when Eggsy realigned his feet, cheeks redden. 

Harry started them off again, this time verbally as well as physically. “One, two, three. Follow the pace. Head up.”

Eggsy tried his best to focus, but it was all so thrilling. His stomach was buzzing, his pulse was racing and he had just enough place in his cluttered mind to be thankful it was just the two of us. He wanted to kiss Harry for being so thoughtful.

He just really wanted to kiss Harry.

“Close your eyes.” Harry suddenly ordered.

“What?”

“Close your eyes, and follow my words.”

Right then, his enthusiasm was more than obvious. Eggsy flushed and sighed, closing his eyes after setting his feet again. Harry let him take a few breaths before beginning again.

Only now everything physical and audible was pronounced.

“Slowly now. Right first—your right—left, close. Then left, right, close. I’ll repeat that, you follow in time. Again?”

“Okay.” Eggsy nodded, reaffirming his grip on Harry’s warm hand and arm. He squeezed Harry’s bicep, admiring its form, kept so secret beneath his white dress shirt. God, he smelt good, Eggsy wanted to tuck his head under his chin and nuzzle him.

“And right. Left. Close... Left, right, close... Right, left, close. Left—beautiful, there we go—close. Well done.”

“I got it!” Eggsy opened his eyes, beaming at Harry who was so damn close, looking so damn delighted and so damn graceful as they came to a stop.

“Not so hard.” Harry said, giving Eggsy an unwanted, but respectful gap of space during their pause. But it didn’t bother Eggsy, he was too thrilled. He had waltzed, technically, he’d done it. It took a great deal of concentrating but he’d done it. He was holding onto Harry a little tighter than he should be but under the exciting circumstances he thought it could be pardoned.

“Holy shit. Okay, start again.”

Harry was all too happy to oblige. They started off as they left, well in tune, but Eggsy was still too full of zest and Harry physically slowed them down.

“You don’t have to rush. The lead sets the pace, you just follow along.” He said softly, never a humiliating edge to his voice, but rather an encouragement that made Eggsy obey instantly without thought or shame. 

“That’s it. Very good. You’re certainly a fast learner.”

“And light on my feet— _shit-!_ ” Eggsy stepped right on Harry’s toes, because as guilty as charged, his mind hadn’t slowed down. “Sorry! I was thinking of something.” He floundered, smiling sheepishly and looking apologetically at Harry’s poor feet. But Harry’s foot was fine, his shoes really were hardy.

“Nothing bad I hope.” Harry said, adjusting their arms, and this time brought them a little closer. Eggsy let him, and didn’t even notice his mind going blank to make space for the vision in front of him.

“I hope?” Harry pressed, making Eggsy blink back into motion.

“Nah, jus’ about me being light on my feet. You know what parkour is?”

“A dangerous but exhilarating hobby, I’ve seen.”

“Well yeah. So if I can get that, I can get this, yeah?”

“You’re already proving so.” Harry said, and gave a nod that prompted them into motion. Eggsy kept his head up and eyes open this time, breathing through his nose as he recited the steps in his head. There were no hiccups this time, and they moved around the room for a steady minute like a summers breeze until Harry gave his hand a squeeze. 

“Perfect.”

“I’m fucking doing it. You’re a great teacher.”

“To a great student.” Harry ended off their steps suddenly, taking Eggsy’s weight when he failed to see it coming. He tugged Eggsy against his chest to steady him, an unmovable magnificent Obelisk that Eggsy wanted to cling to. And then just as suddenly Harry let him go, and allowed the air to take space between them. 

Eggsy dropped his arms along with Harry and was surprised at the tingle in them, as though they’d been at the gym all morning.

“Bloody well done. A few more practices and you’ll be able to waltz anyone off their feet. You’re going to have women swooning around the room.”

Eggsy laughed, thinking about the times he’d fantasised about that, and glanced back at Harry’s assaulted foot.

“How the hell do the girls do this in heels? Didja see the heels Roxy was wearing when she took us out? I bet those things could kill something, and not counting a pair of feet.”

“With a lot of practice and patience. To trip in a pair of those while dancing is not to be taken lightly. But there are specially made shoes with better heel positioning for the ladies, so it’s not entirely magic.”

“Has to be mostly magic. How can you wear ‘em _and_ dance backwards?” 

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it and tilted his head in thought with a look of comical nostalgia that even a blind man could spot.

Eggsy turned his head suspiciously and squinted. “...Have you...?”

A naughty smile crept onto Harry’s face, hands slipping into his pockets. 

“I tried it, yes.”

“Oh my god.” Eggsy exclaimed, throwing his hands out.

“When I was _much_ younger. Who knows what my knees would say to me now if I tried again.”

“Oh my god.”

Harry’s cheeks betrayed him and he looked away. “All right.”

“Didja fall?” Eggsy pressed, wiping his mouth as if he could wipe his grin away at the thought of a younger Harry wearing women’s heels and dancing the waltz.

“No, and thank goodness too. My dancing partner wasn’t the nicest man there was. I doubt he would’ve caught me.”

Eggsy sobered with a matter-of-fact sound. “Sounds like someone who needs a punch.”

“A gentleman does not engage in such in public.”

“Still needs a punch.” Eggsy shrugged, realising quick quickly how fast he’d gotten protective. It was just as quickly becoming obvious he would protect Harry with as much heart as he would Daisy and his mum. And he liked realising that. And he liked even more that he was almost positive he wasn’t being scammed.

“But you’d catch me, yeah?” Eggsy asked, stepping into that empty space and tipping side to side like a flirtatious tart trying to draw her intended’s attention.

Harry regarded him with that cool air for a moment, his eyes filled with mirth, but he didn’t reach out like Eggsy half-hoped he would. “Of course. What kind of man would I be to let my husband fall?”

Eggsy bit his lip again. “I’m kinda heavy.” 

“But not too heavy.” Harry smiled a secret smile, as if possibly referring to the night before. Or maybe now when he kept Eggsy from falling. Either way Eggsy still blushed. 

“I’m proud. You caught on quick and moved beautifully. I daresay we could steal the spot light to the next party we’re invited to.”

Eggsy pursed his lips and straightened, imagining he had a curly moustache and a glass monocle. “Do those happen often, my good sir?”

“I’ve many friends around the world in my travels. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

Eggsy was honestly looking forward to it.

 

**XxXxXxXx**

 

They spent three glorious hours perfecting Eggsy’s ballroom skills. 

By the time it was over Eggsy almost felt as if he’d been doing it all his life. As if he’d known the waltz all his life. As if he’d been wearing Oxfords all his life. As if he’d owned pairs of bespoke suits all his life. As if he’d been attending the gym all his life. As if he’d been drinking cappuccino in the café below it all his life. As if he’d had a clean smart house all his life. As if he’d been with Harry all his life.

As if he’d been happy all his life.

Maybe this fairy tale story wasn’t all that bad.

The feeling inside him when they left the dance studio was so incredibly alien, and it hummed away inside him as he tried his utmost to contain it. All of a sudden the world was brighter, a tiny gleam more than their morning which was already a feat. His eyes felt bigger, as well as his mind and heart. But most specifically, the world.

But he had little desire to stray off into it despite what he would have assumed he’d do with more rope. No, he found himself always just a step away from Harry, always attentive, always entertained, always comfortable. Harry made him feel good. Eggsy didn’t think it was possible to feel this way. 

He wanted to feel like this forever, and so far it seemed like Harry was serious about their marriage. 

It was almost as if Harry was _courting_ him. Gifts, meals, outings, compliments—and all so prim and proper. Or sometimes prim, but quite proper. Harry had been treating him like an equal even if he was the bought wife, and it only quite registered today. A fucking spoilt pampered equal, but an equal nonetheless.

Eggsy made a vow to start acknowledging it properly. 

He wanted to start acting properly.

So when they got home and he asked Harry if they could go to dinner somewhere nice, he revelled in the glint of approval Harry displayed when agreeing. Eggsy let Harry choose where seeing as he was a complete noob, and hurried off to expel his giddy feelings alone. 

He was lying in a hot bath when he called Roxy, tossing a bubble-covered shower-poof up and down.

“Hey bae.”

“ _Oh god, please never use that word again._ ”

“Guess what I did today.”

“ _If this is a confession to say you killed Harry I regret to inform you but…he’s immortal. He’s probably standing right behind you as we speak._ ”

“I’m in the tub.” He laughed, but stopped short and glanced at the door. “…But you was kidding, yeah? Cause if he is then I guess it makes sense. You’re not all a bunch of vampires are you? How else could you party in ‘em heels all night drinking like we did.”

“ _Now now, jealousy makes you nasty. So what did you do today_?”

“Harry took me to this place and taught me how to waltz. Spend three fuckin’ hours there and I gotta say, I ain’t bad.”

“ _Oooh, stepping up are we? I’d like to see that action. I’m not too bad myself._ ” 

“Of course you aren’t.” he rolled his eyes. “Maybe we should have a competition.”

“ _Maybe we should. Did he teach you both roles_?”

“Nah, he took the lead. Said next time.”

“ _I could teach you to lead, if you want. Might be less funny leading me around than Harry._ ”

“Hey did Harry ever mention he’s done it in heels?”

“ _Wait, really_?” 

“I still can’t get rid of the image. Like how was he dressed? By the way, if you wanna teach me don’t worry, you don’t have to wear the heels.”

“ _Oh I’ll wear them, and still dance circles around you._ ”

“Y’wanna bet? Tell you what. Bring a second pair and we’ll see whose more _on point_.”

“ _My day just got twice as interesting. Do you want a challenge, or a starter_?”

“Don’t you baby me, bring it on.”

“ _You’ll beg for mercy. …But I’m not liable if you break a leg._ ” 

“That’s all right. I got Harry at home to make it all better.”

“ _That sounds good. Things been all right then_?”

 _More than all right_ he nearly blurted, but that would practically state something had happened. He shrugged instead and pursed his lips dramatically, the actions audible in his tone. “Yeah good. Been getting along. Easier every day.”

“ _Glad to hear it, Eggsy._ ”

“All right, just called to brag. Gotta carry on my bubble bath.”

“ _I hope I’m the only girl you’re calling while in there._ ”

“Would it be weird to call my mum?”

“ _Honestly, I can’t tell._ ”

“Thanks. I’ll see ya, Rox. I’ll text you after talking to Harry about it.”

“ _Okay. Bye, Eggsy._ ”

“Bye.”

Rather than call his mum, he texted her. He didn’t want to speak directly to her with a guilty fault line in his voice after what he had humped straight into Harry after she’d left their house the very night before.

God, saying it like that almost made it seem like he’d gotten jealous and marked his territory.

 

“Harry?” Eggsy called reluctantly after fifteen minutes of fussing and trying to slyly read the instructions on his phone from the internet.

“What is it?” 

“Tie.” Eggsy pouted, handing Harry the crumpled length of fabric.

Harry regarded it with amusement and tossed it onto the bed, then went to find a new one out of the drawer. Eggsy sighed, cheeks hot as he swayed idly until Harry returned and fitted his tie for him.

“I never learnt.” He mumbled as way of explanation, though it was painfully obvious. Harry made a dismissive facial expression, and patted his collar down when done.

“You look dashing.” He said instead, stepping back to give Eggsy a full-bodied look.

Eggsy had on one of his new less formal suits, one for dining rather than business or a meeting with royalty. His back Oxford were shining, his jacket and trousers without wrinkles and with his hair combed back (by Harry, as if Eggsy didn’t have enough to swoon about), and he was almost unrecognisable. It was the first time he’d be wearing it for more than a fit, and the first time he’d wear it out the house. 

“Are you sure it’s comfortable?” Harry asked, taking Eggsy’s wrist to turn him a little as he looked down the side length of his pants.

Eggsy smiled—one tie wasn’t enough to dampen his mood. “Yeah, feels good.”

Harry returned it. “Good.”

 

The same driver as always took them to their restaurant, in the same Kingsman taxi as always. Eggsy was used to it now, it helped keep him calm and collected while in public with a suit on. He felt a little too dressed up, but confident, especially when looking quite different, and with Harry by his side. 

But when they reached the restaurant, half of it went out of the window.

Château Roi, he read before Harry took his arm and squeezed. Eggsy looked at him, taking comfort from the narrowed amused eyes, as if Harry was saying _I’m on your side_ , as if Harry could tell how intimidated he suddenly felt, even if this was his idea. Harry was always so in tuned, so attentive. 

And Eggsy fucking hoped he was, because he’d never been to a place like this. He was almost afraid he’d pass through the doors and some kind of detector would go off and reveal that he was just a trainers-wearing punk that came from a dirty alcoholic household on a dirty alcoholic street in the dirty alcoholic side of town.

Almost.

But then when he caught their reflection on the front doors the panic ebbed away and he managed to breathe in a little excitement again. 

Harry was right, he looked dashing. And he was really starting to feel like it. His body was still singing from their dancing ( _he’d waltzed!_ ), his very own suit was pristine (fucking bespoke and all), his hair was neatly combed in a manner similar to Harry’s and showed no evidence of his caps, and with his arm intertwined with Harry’s he felt like royalty, back straight and chin raised.

No one could tell who he was. Visually he almost couldn’t either, but Harry was the proof in the pudding.

They were met by a tall pinch-faced man at the podium, his professional title lost on Eggsy, but he smiled politely and wondered what his own posh name would be. Would Gary become Gareth? Sir Gareth. Sir Gary. Sir Gary Hart. Sir Gary Unwin-Hart.

“Good evening, and welcome to Château Roi.”

Harry nodded in greeting, again squeezing Eggsy’s arm. “Good evening. I’ve a reservation for my young husband and I under the name Hart.”

The man looked straight down into his log, apparently not at all concerned, while Eggsy blushed and shot Harry a look. Harry just raised a cheeky brow at him and smiled at the man behind the podium when he looked up and extended his hand. “Right this way, gentleman.”

With that over, and their way being led, Eggsy had a lot to take in. 

The first thing he noticed was the high ceiling, the twinkling crystal chandeliers and the beautiful theme of crimson and gold. The walls and carpeting seemed to be velvet of the best kind, tables spaced and sparkling just like stars in the sky.

The place was downright regal.

“...I don’t know much about fine dining but ain’t there supposed to be a waiting list or something? I didn’t even think of that, to be honest.” He said quietly, looking at all the beautiful people seated around the room, completely uninterested in anything beyond their table and their conversation, teeth white and smiles bright.

It was almost intimidating, very nearly infuriating, but Harry was there leaning over to steal it away.

“Of course there is.” He said seriously, before he sprouted a cocky smirk. “But not for me.”

Eggsy grinned, feeling that swarm of butterflies swirling in his stomach. Harry gave him a secret smile, then focused on leading them after their guide. Eggsy swallowed down his bubbling emotions and tried to breathe in the air-conditioned air to cool his face down. 

He looked away from Harry and again around the room, the beautifully set tables and the many speedy waiters and waitresses who looked as amazing as the rest of the place did. It was bizarre to him at least, mind-blowing at most.

“Your requested table, Mr. Hart.” 

They were situated right at the back, in the corner, besides a window that looked over the more beautiful part of town. The table suddenly seemed so big and complicated, already arranged and just waiting for Eggsy to knock over everything like a fatal game of dominos.

“Eggsy.” Harry said as he pulled out a chair for him, taking away a little more of his breath.

Eggsy lost the battle against his blushing and rather resisted looking at their company as he took the seat. Harry pushed it in as he sat, making sure he was comfortable before he sat across from him, so close, but so far. 

“A waiter will be with you shortly.” The man said, clasping his hands with a small incline of his head before he disappeared off.

The moment he was gone it felt as if the world came to a stop, and Eggsy sat staring across at Harry in a funny mixture of feeling awed, and lost. Every look to his lap or his arms reminded him he was in disguise, no one knew him to judge him, but it still took a great many breaths to get his bearings and keep up the charade. Anyhow it was fun, and he cleared his throat as he leaned over to talk.

“I know nothing about nothing here so you gonna have to order for me.”

“I think I’ve a decent grasp of your tastes to not muck it up.”

Eggsy smiled and opened his mouth, but the promised waiter appeared.

“Good evening, gentleman. I am Anthony and I will be your waiter for tonight. May I offer you the wine list?”

“Yes, please.” 

It was really all so bizarre. Eggsy watched as if he were watching a movie, or perhaps a tutorial. Harry navigated his way around the menu and waiter without the slightest effort, pronouncing words and names Eggsy hadn’t even known existed. The waiter responded as if he knew exactly what Harry was talking about it, but it was all gibberish to Eggsy.

Still, pretending he knew what the hell they were speak of had its merits and he nodded confidently, making little snobbish sounds of agreement whenever they waiter glanced at him for his approval or opinion, lips puckered and nose pinched comically (but cutely, if he recalled). Harry would ask him simple questions that kept him in the loop, “ _I think the 1985 Red is a good choice, what do you think_?”, giving Eggsy chances to add his oblivious two-cents, but ultimately Harry chose the wine. 

The waiter was none the wiser and hurried off to get their bottle, leaving Eggsy biting his lip to keep from laughing, and Harry smiling so handsomely and playfully that Eggsy wished they were at home right now, because he’d be grabbing onto his collar and _accidentally_ tripping them onto the nearest surface. 

How scandalised would the restaurant be if he did it anyway over the table?

Within the same short time span the wine arrived and the waiter poured it for them. Eggsy got his first—sighing benevolently through his nose because he wasn’t blind not to see all the women being treated as such—and swirled the wine as he waited for Harry to receive his.

Harry did the same, a little more lightly, and raised the glass.

“To us.”

“To us.” Eggsy agreed, smiling too widely than was probably polite, and tried to smother it with a gulp of the wine. Harry sipped his without the facial pinch Eggsy ended up with and accepted the dinner menus.

He took one look at it, and before Eggsy could even bother trying to decipher what was written on his Harry was handing his back. 

“Maybe I order now? I know which dishes we want.”

“Of course, sir.” 

Eggsy handed his right back without a second glance, drinking his wine instead. He couldn’t tell if it tasted good or not, he had more experience with champagne in the line of fancy drinks. Did Harry like champagne? He sure liked scotch and whiskey.

Once the waiter disappeared with Harry’s French-sounding orders Eggsy shrugged at him. 

“I literally have no idea what any of that was.” He confessed, realising after a moment how _open_ a thing it was to say. It was only a fleeting thought, and before he could think on it Harry answered with a smile and a calm blink.

“Twice the delight and surprise then.”

Eggsy nodded, but he couldn’t help looking around again. “Nice place.” He said, bottom lip pushed out. “Really not bad. I mean I hoped you’d choose a place like this but wow. You come here often then?”

“Not for a few months.”

“Lucky me. So what didja have to do to get this table in like, what, four hours?” He leaned over, forearms on the table.

Harry gave a one-shouldered shrug and looked into his wine glass. “Assassinated the couple meant to be here and paid off the maître d’.”

Eggsy snorted, but looked around for the man in question with a dramatic squint. “Huh, thought he was a little weird. But I’d off him too if I were you, looks like someone that’d rat you out.”

Harry raised a brow. “Interesting.”

“I’m joking.” Eggsy sat back, about to grab for his glass when he looked back up. “...Are you?”

There was a moment of eerie silence, and then Harry smiled just enough to have Eggsy leaning in rather than out. 

“What would you say if I wasn’t?” he asked, copping that funny serious tone Eggsy rather disliked. Although this topic was very different to the usual kinds that Harry used it on, but Eggsy couldn’t figure out the connection, so he broke the misled tension with a cocky incline of his head and another snort. After all, it wasn’t every day Harry humoured such an _irresponsible_ topic.

“I’d say prove it by killing him with a napkin.”

“A bit much. A gun is much more efficient.”

“Louder. The napkin will muffle the sound and everything.”

“Not if you have a silencer.”

“Costly. The napkin is free. I like to be savvy.”

“Yes, your rainbow shower accessories tell me so.”

Eggsy burst out laughing, catching himself a little later than he should have judging by the turned heads, and he threw Harry a wink. 

“Oh, you love ‘em. I’ve seen you eying the Hello Kitty one.” He teased, because he knew Harry would take no offence. Harry rarely did whenever Eggsy teased or taunted. The only times he did was, well... _those_ times. Otherwise, Harry was surprisingly tolerant and easy-going compared to how he presented himself. He was far from the high-strung person Eggsy thought he’d be the first day they met.

“Why _Mr. Pickles_?” Eggsy asked, suddenly incredulous at the fact that he hadn’t asked before.

And he was hardly surprised when Harry answered exactly how he expected, which probably answered why he had never bothered to ask. “Why _not_?”

They shared another smile and Harry refilled their glasses, and after a sip (or a mouthful, Eggsy was starting to enjoy the flavour very much) Eggsy sat back and straight. “So, have I broken a bunch’a rules yet? About how to sit and whatnot?”

“I am fairly sure you know about the elbows.”

“Yeah. But what else? I have no idea what the fuck you need these tiny forks for. Do rich people have such weak arms?”

Again too loud, but he ignored their affronted neighbours. Harry did too, but he did raise a testing brow and incline his head to the side.

“Well, foul language is frowned upon, another obvious point. The forks, well. That one is a salad fork, and that one is a cake fork.”

“Who eats cake with a fork—?” It tumbled out before he could stop it. The answer was evident by the switch of Harry’s brows. “Don’t answer that.”

“The cakes in these establishments are more often than not extremely moist. I think chocolate would be just a little vulgar to be sucking off your fingers in front of a roomful of _snobs_.”

“You realise saying ‘moist’ and ‘sucking off’ is like, bordering foul language right?”

“They were in separate sentences. I think I made it through the loop hole.”

“And now you said ‘hole’.” It was a good thing they were in a corner. Eggsy could barely keep his face straight and on the lighter side of red, but it was some compensation that Harry seemed to be unable to hide his own amused smiling.

Eggsy sighed loudly and shook his head of the mischief, took a large sip of wine and then pointed to another utensil. “All right. Erm, this one?”

“I believe that is an ordinary teaspoon.”

Eggsy threw his hands up. “I give up.” He sat back in a huff, fully intending to falsely glare Harry into some kind of repentance, but he lost his way when he looked at Harry, as if suddenly seeing him for the first time tonight. Him, and only him.

“…You look handsome.” He said softly, conscious that no one else hears him this time. Not because he was ashamed or shy, but it felt private. It felt honest. It felt important.

It wasn’t often in his life Eggsy felt those things. Harry was making him feel many things.

Harry looked at him for a moment, eyes darting as he looked over his face. For what though? Lies? Eggsy found he really didn’t like that idea, but Harry placated him before he could fret, even if there was something unsaid left in his expression. 

“Thank you. So do you.”

Eggsy took a deep breath, and look down to end the moment. 

He schooled his expression and looked around to make it real, immediately entranced once more by the twinkling beauty in every direction. Harry followed his gaze and observed with him, sharing yet another smile with Eggsy when they came back again. Eggsy shrugged emptily, trying not to feel self conscious of his awe. 

“It feels funny being around all of this. But I’m really starting to like it. Just a change to come from...” He struggled for words, sighing and shrugging again before he managed to continue. “Well, y’know. From there, to this.” It looked like Harry wanted to say something, but Eggsy jumped to continue. He didn’t want to hear silly proclamations from Harry about his background being a thing of the past, or of little matter. He was who he was. Harry couldn’t take it away. Some things would always stay with him, no matter how he was dressed or where they went. 

“Why didn’t you find a rich young chav to marry? Why me? Why one of us?”

“I’ve no interest in becoming wealthier, Eggsy.”

All Eggsy could do to keep from rolling his eyes was exhaling a weak laugh, and even that he had to drain of sarcasm first. “Then that makes you like the only person in the world. Though after what you paid for me...” And all the gifts and care and pampering. Harry certainly had to be fucking _wealthy_ , though his little house was very misleading.

Still, it was a valid question. Why, if not to use and abuse, would Harry take a boy of his status? He had nothing to offer Harry, nothing of true value. There was nothing other than his company and pleasure, and Eggsy was only half confident of his ability in those. It had been fine and dandy this past month enjoying Harry’s comforts, but sitting here in his restaurant where everyone’s shoes cost more than Eggsy’s time and dignity really made him wonder.

Then as if Harry could read his fucking thoughts, the older man sat forward, voice soft and firm at the same time, and for his ears only. Eggsy loved that tone.

“You are worth every cent, and I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”

With his breath threatening to pick up, heart already two steps ahead, Eggsy leaned forward too, hands in his lap and wishing not for the first time that they were at home instead; the table was indeed huge

“You realise what you did for me, yeah? For my mum?” He asked, trying to put forth his own serious tone because it felt like he had just truly realised how fucked he would have been had that one phone call not happened. 

“If you hadn’t picked me...I don’t wanna think where I’d be right now.” The fact that this was complete truth and no exaggeration terrified him. He’d been so close. _So_ … so close.

But the tension building in his shoulders cracked and fell away as Harry pressed closer with his mere presence, distorting the fact that there was a table between them. 

“Anywhere besides here with me is unacceptable.” Harry said, _swore_ , in a confession like a caress, and Eggsy let it assault every inch of his being.

“…You a real charmer, y’know that right?” Eggsy breathed, forcing the words out as he squirmed in his seat, a sudden pressure in his pants.

A naughty twinkle passed through Harry’s eyes, taking the swift dark promise with them like a trick of the mind. “Of course. I have years of practice on my belt.”

“Good to know we’re married. You won’t just disappear in the morning. You’re real.” And back to word vomit.

“And you’re mine.”

“Fuck.”

Their less-than-appropriate eye contact was severed by the appearance of their waiter with their food. Eggsy felt he needed another set of eyes to properly take in the art before him. 

It looked literally too dressed up to eat, and he sat for at least a two minutes studying the plate as Harry explained what it consisted off, and what utensil to eat it with. It was a wonder why Harry hadn’t already taught him these things if Eggsy was to become apart of his household, but that went with everything else Eggsy thought Harry would do or want. Out the window, that was. 

His meal with something with pasta and ground beef, sinfully melted cheese and spice holding it all together, and it tasted as good as it looked. The portion was not as big as Eggsy would’ve liked, he’d gotten used to Harry stuffing him night and day, but that just meant more room for a sticky chocolate dessert to suck off a spoon and solicit Harry with.

Eggsy made sure to enjoy every second of it, looking up often but making sure not to stare—he exercised quite a bit of enthusiastic effort to acting right. He tried not to look at the other people, but at the scenery, and he tried to keep his elbows off the table as he ate. He tried not to drink with his mouth full, or talk, and knocked over only one of the spare glasses on the table.

He didn’t bother Harry with any suggestive foot-taps and tried not to slouch, and resisted looking around for the judging eyes that weren’t there when Harry taught him to _dab_ with his napkin, and not _wipe_.

Almost as soon as they were both done with their meal Anthony appeared and swiped their plates away, dusting here and there and whooshing off in the likeness of an ice-skater. Eggsy watched with a confused mix of pity and admiration.

“I ain’t never been waited on like this. I hope these employees make their money.”

“Oh, they do. Waiting on people of this calibre can be quite a trial.”

“I can bet.” Eggsy snorted, then jerked his head up at Harry. “So you gonna teach me how to talk proper like in My Fair Lady?”

“Don’t be absurd. Being a gentleman has nothing to do with one’s accent. It’s about being comfortable in one’s own skin.” Harry paused as if to let it sink it—which it didn’t really because ‘I-am-not-a-gentleman’ was on the tip of Eggsy’s tongue—then continued on with a tiny sigh. “There is nothing noble about being superior to your fellow man. True nobility is being superior to your former self.”

If Eggsy was staring like an imbecile, Harry didn’t point him out. Instead he lifted their bottle of liquor. 

“More wine?”

Eggsy took the wine, and felt it slowly sink in along with Harry’s words. The bottle was nearly empty by the time dessert arrived, and Eggsy was sporting a nice warm buzz.

The cake was pretty much what Harry said it would be. The tiny cake fork was cute but Eggsy replaced it in favour of the teaspoon and moaned a little too loudly when he started off, and reluctantly gave credit where credit was due. The cake size was decent too, and he closed his eyes with each mouthful as the thick creamy flavour melted in his mouth. 

_Decadent_ , he nodded internally. He’d always wanted to use that word.

“Do y’know that Adidas is an anagram?” he asked out of the blue, spoon in his mouth and elbows back on the table.

Harry swirled his vanilla pudding idly. “Really? For what?”

“All-Day-I-Dream-About-Sex.” Eggsy scooped up another mouthful, giving it an intimate look before popping it in his mouth and smiling around the spoon at Harry’s amused look. “Jus’ what I heard.”

“From school, I presume?”

“Where else?”

Harry had a taste of his pudding with a ridiculously steady hand, eyes into his bowl before giving his gaze back to Eggsy. “Is that the sole motive for your interest in the brand?”

Eggsy let him hang for a minute, pretend-contemplating before snorting again and taking another scoop. “No, I just really like their style. You can relax now.”

“After you, darling.”

Eggsy swallowed painfully, the spoon slipping from his lips. He caught it before it hit the plate, and narrowed his eyes as threateningly and confidently as he could when Harry fucking _smirked_ , clearly and most certainly aware of what he was doing. And knowing for sure that Harry knew what he was doing made Eggsy want to ditch this whole mannered shit and climb right over the table. If he were with anyone else and in McDonalds he probably would have, chips and tomato sauce flying into the people besides them.

“You can’t say that to me and not expect foul language.” He ground out, stabbing the remainder of his cake and lodging it dangerously between his teeth.

Harry just blinked sweetly, and inclined his head very so slightly like a little innocent lamb. 

“Say what?”

“You know what.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, my dear.”

“Go on.”

“What more is there to say, sweetheart?”

“ _Anything._ ”

“Mon chéri, that is a vague request.”

“You’re doing all right so far. _Harry_.”

“And somehow you make _that_ sound like foul language.”

“Do you like it?” Eggsy deserted his cake in favour of leaning on the table towards Harry without one fuck about etiquette. His cheeks were pink from the wine and Harry’s flirting and if he didn’t get at least one kiss tonight he was going to scream.

Harry on the other hand sighed, and played even more with his food—the weirdest sight. 

“It’s not wise to tempt a wolf.” He said, softly, almost sullenly. 

Eggsy couldn’t help the way his brows scrunched up—Harry comparing himself to a wolf?—and chuckled, knowing he had a goofy smile on his face but apathetic to the fact. 

“I thought you was a gentleman.”

Harry’s eyes flickered up to meet his. There was a sudden conviction in them that shot down Eggsy’s attempt at continuing the flirt.

“Wolves are elegant, powerful and protective creatures. As should a gentleman be.”

Eggsy had absolutely no argument to put forth to that—not that he felt he needed to—and held Harry’s gaze to resist the urge to shift and fidget.

“…Think I could ever be a wolf?” he found himself asking.

“I think you’re well on your way to becoming a fine wolf. One I am very proud of.” Harry said, clearly and surely, and nodded at Eggsy. “And you should be too.”

By default, Eggsy shook his head. He knew he shouldn’t have, Harry didn’t need to keep reassuring him of things. Even if he said he would, even if he wanted to.

But Eggsy couldn’t help it. He wasn’t like Harry, he wasn’t a wolf. He wasn’t a gentleman. He could pretend to be one, wear smart suits and learn to waltz, but in the end he’d still be the pleb plucked off the streets, worth more to a mail-order-bride service than anywhere else. He was still just Eggsy. Just Eggsy.

“I ain’t done much to be proud of.” 

“I think you’ll find that’s not true.”

“No, you don’t know me, Harry. I’m not just what my file said.” God he couldn’t tell Harry about his life, about _Smith Street_. Not yet. But the word-vomit was happening more often. It would ruin everything, and he didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want to mess this up, and he didn’t want Harry to mess it up either.

“No. You’re much more. And I see it everyday.” Harry said, as composed as ever—enough for the two of them. “And if you allowed yourself, you’d see it too.”

And then Harry smiled at him, and Eggsy sat back without a worry on his shoulders. How Harry kept doing that, he wasn’t sure. 

Maybe Harry really was a witch.

But he was Eggsy’s witch.

“...I kinda roped myself into waltzing with Roxy.” Eggsy said after a moment, eating the last of his cake—Harry abandoned his dessert entirely.

“How so?”

“I told her you taught me, and it ended with us in a bet.”

“What kind?”

“That I could beat her wearing heels while we dance.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head to the side. “You should really study an opponent and their skills before jumping into a challenge.”

“Yeah, kinda just dived in there. Can’t be that hard though?”

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

Eggsy pouted. “You ain’t gonna offer to teach me how?”

“Eggsy, that was thirty years ago.” Harry smiled, exasperated. “Besides, that would be cheating. But I’ll tag along with moral support, if you’d like.”

“Sure. Gonna need you to carry me home if I break my ankles.”

“Not a joking matter but at least you have foresight.”

“...Foreskin.”

“ _No, Eggsy_.”

 

The night ended well. 

Eggsy was full and sated, head still buzzing and stomach whispering for another plate of cake, but it was a good sign. As was the fact that he wouldn’t mind coming back. With Harry, of course, who took his hand this time as they left the establishment and setting off the giddy little butterflies in Eggsy’s stomach.

He tried not to hold on too tight but Harry’s hand was warm and welcoming in comparison to the cold night air. Luckily the taxi was already waiting for them, Eggsy couldn’t recall Harry having called for it, and it took them back home in a smooth quiet ride. A ride that consisted of Eggsy leaning his head on Harry’s shoulder, legitimately tired, but greedy for his contact. Harry didn’t refuse him, and moved his arm around Eggsy’s back so Eggsy could shift closer, but directed his gaze out of the window and said nothing. Eggsy didn’t press. 

The first shower went to Eggsy. He was sorely tempted to invite Harry in, very much so, but kept it to himself and instead taunted himself with the prospect of finding his way back into Harry’s lap if he could just be good and patient. He knew Harry would appreciate it too, so he cleaning up quickly, stumbling a little thanks to the wine, and gave over the bathroom to Harry when he was done with little more than a smile.

He lay in bed later, browsing blindly through his phone as he waited for Harry to finish his nightly routine. He’d put the light off, leaving only Harry’s bedside lamp on. It left the room with a nice soft glow, intruded upon by the gleam of Eggsy’s phone but still dim enough to just about mask the way Eggsy was biting his lip, and the hue of his cheeks that wasn’t exactly _all_ contributed by the wine.

By the time Harry returned, too long a time later, Eggsy was entirely on his back, phone discarded on the table and toes wriggling through the boredom. He lifted his head when Harry exited the bathroom fully dressed, hair fluffed out to dry and glasses set on the table. 

He gave Eggsy a fleeting smile as he moved around, preparing for the night, but Eggsy watched impatiently, trying his best not to show it but failing anyway. 

Eventually Harry came to bed, and Eggsy sat up. Harry noticed but said nothing, just like most instances in the latter of their evening, but it wasn’t going to put off Eggsy because he knew exactly what was playing inside Harry’s mind. It was up to him to bring these matters up, and tonight was a perfect night if Harry wanted it to be meaningful, or _right_. They’d done something...incredible the night before, and who could blame Eggsy’s virility for craving for more.

The bed caved lightly to announce Harry’s addition, and Eggsy swallowed nervously, with a huge heap of giddiness. He’d giggle if he wasn’t so scared of chasing Harry off, who was apparently very serious about rearranging his pillows as if Eggsy wasn’t currently waiting like a dingo besides him. This had to be the most awkward moment they’d shared, which was surprising for Harry’s usual manner of handling things, but Eggsy was just too full of fluffy zest to find it uncomfortable. If anything it made him feel that bit closer to Harry, that more trusting, that more confident.

Finally the rearranging stopped, leaving nothing else to do but lie down. Harry didn’t do so immediately, providing the opening Eggsy wanted.

He peeked up at Harry like an imp, biting back a grin. Harry was peeking back at him in a similar manner, only with a lot more control to his sage features. 

They sat quietly, two figures in the dim light, that huge fucking elephant about to burst.

It quickly became too much and Eggsy turned away with a nervous laugh as he rubbed his forehead. He knew he was blushing and he hoped the light of Harry’s lamp didn’t catch it, and resisted looking back at Harry. A hopeless cause.

But he had to when Harry spoke, the man looking suddenly forlorn, an expression similar to one back in the restaurant.

“We should sleep, Eggsy.”

Eggsy paused to let the words sink in, but the butterflies in his stomach weren’t quite as patient. 

“…You don’t wanna do it again?”

Harry looked stricken for a moment. It slowly ebbed back into something like regret, followed by plain honesty. 

“Would you believe me if I said I am not sure?”

 _Why_ , Eggsy wished to know. _Why?_

He chose not to ask. 

He chose to trust.

“...Okay.” He tried not to sound any level of disappointed, though it surprised him how much he was. He shook it off and shrugged, but shifted closer all the same. 

“Do you...do you wanna just hold me like normal or—or do I take up too much space in bed as it?”

The lines on Harry’s face eased and he reached out instantly. He cupped Eggsy’s chin and stroked his cheek, platonic in a dreadfully authentic manner that Eggsy had little experience with, but he made sure to enjoy every moment of it to fill the little holes he’d grown up with.

“Of course I’ll hold you, Eggsy.” Harry murmured sadly.

_Sadly._

The tone was unmistakeable, and Eggsy blinked hard as a wave of guilt crashed upon him. Suddenly the thought of rushing Harry for such things made him feel sick.

“I didn’t mean to nag.” He rushed to say, grabbing Harry’s wrist with a squeeze that he hoped was comforting. “I was just—we don’t have to. Too soon, I get it. I was just...if we _both_ wanted what we—last night—then that’s all right, yeah? So I just thought I’d bring it up cause in case you also wanted to but was just...so I just...—”

Suddenly Harry kissed his forehead. Eggsy blinked into his chest, and after a moment folded himself down onto it, and lay down with Harry as he reached to put the lamp off. Harry shifted a little so Eggsy sunk into the crook of his arm, head and arm curled on Harry’s chest. 

Eggsy squirmed until he was pressed against the length of Harry’s body, and hummed as Harry’s arm wrapped around his waist and held him snug against him. The action grounded him, and he inhaled deeply, letting Harry’s scent settle deep beneath his skin.

A blizzard of emotions went through Eggsy and he held Harry all the tighter when it felt like he would be blown away. Harry would squeeze him back in response, and it contained the raging inside him enough to settle down. 

Harry cared about him. He didn’t quite know why, but he did. Maybe it really was that possible, that simple.

Eggsy didn’t know what to do with it.

But he never wanted to lose it. Not even for a kiss.

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you guys seen the Hartwin art of them ballroom dancing? My god its amazing I could dIE, need to send those artists some praise.


	10. His Firm Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long ass chapter ???? Wtf self. Sorry. Also sorry for the wait, I haven’t quit or anything! I know many people don’t like to read WIPs in fear of that (thank you to those who chose to support me anyway). 
> 
> I just got a promotion at work, a new list of responsibilities and a nice new little corner to make my own. And the first thing I did to celebrate it was order a custom coffee mug and mouse pad with pictures of Hannigram and Hartwin on them. My bosses are very Christian. I may not have thought this through...
> 
> ONTO THE FIC~
> 
> It’s been about 28 days, just to keep track.
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

** Chapter 10: His Firm Hand  **

_A week later_

It belatedly occurred to Eggsy that a lot of his disorientation and displacement into his new life was directly due to the mornings.

Back home he was always up first and ready to leave before Dean could trudge by to take a piss and snap insults his way. Eggsy always left the house just after light and spent his mornings getting fresh air, speed walking and nabbing the occasional wallet from a groggy caffeine deprived passer-by. But here with Harry he was always the last to wake and lacked that jump start to the day that an early sprint provided.

It was good to know that his delayed slotting into Harry’s world wasn’t entirely due to him being weird or ungrateful or some kind of emotional wreck, but attempting to remedy it was far harder than it should have been. Nearly a month had gone passed and already he was spoilt by Harry’s relaxed schedule.

Harry got up early, much around the time Eggsy used to. Unfortunately Eggsy was now stuck in his new cycle, sleeping on a full stomach, tired from an active/interesting day and fuzzy in all the weirdest ways. His body no longer wished to zip out of bed and flee; sometimes he could’ve spent all day in bed. 

Neither Harry’s presence nor what he might be thinking worried Eggsy any longer and it drained away the incentive to get up the way he used to. Had he lain in even a minute after Dean he would have earned a front row seat to a heavy-metal performance. 

But not with Harry. 

Harry was ever the gentleman, and Eggsy wanted to say thank you. Properly. Decently. Normally. 

With that in mind it took Eggsy a whole week to put his plan in motion. The plan was to cook breakfast—plain and simple. 

The execution: not so much.

It took Eggsy six days to finally get up before Harry, shooting up at the first stir of consciousness and sliding out of bed as inconspicuously as he could while still very much asleep. It took six days to get out of bed without alerting Harry, something he found a tad jarring thanks to his years of built up guard. He could toss and turn, but the moment his weight left the bed Harry just seemed to _know_. 

Only twice Harry woke and asked “Are you okay?” The rest of the time Harry still seemed to rouse, head inclined in Eggsy’s direction like a bat listening for ultrasonic sounds, but he left him be. Aside from it being a little weird, it was an insult to Eggsy’s thieving skills.

Eggsy kept trying until he got away in the surety that Harry was still actually asleep, and not lying there half in half out _knowing_ Eggsy had gotten up and wondering what he was doing. It made Eggsy feel needlessly guilty of an imaginary crime. He wanted this to be a surprise and it ought to be considering how funny he must have looked sliding off the side of the bed like a slug that couldn’t hold its weight. He watched Harry like a hawk over the covers, squinting in the dim light for any sign that he’d been caught until he slumped onto the floor.

Once he was swaying upright and Harry was still in the very same position (hair mussed and a sight for _all_ eyes, he’d have to snap a picture of that one day) Eggsy slipped on the robe he kept out and sneaked away. And the sneaking he could do, he was good at sneaking around places, but sneaking around in _this_ place somehow seemed harder than usual. It wasn’t even like he was committing a damn felony. He was just getting up to make breakfast for fuck’s sake, and yet he crept quiet as a mouse, listening worriedly for any sign of Harry.

Despite his paranoia he made it to the kitchen without a problem and figured it was now or never. Aside from wanting it to be a surprise Eggsy didn’t think he’d be able to do it if he knew Harry was up there in wait of the knowledge of what he was doing. While Harry was oblivious there was no pressure. Eggsy could do a bunch of amazing and insane (and horrid, if you went there) things under pressure, but he was not going to light Harry’s kitchen (or himself) on fire to prove that. 

So equipped with the laptop, WIFI and some precious time, Eggsy made breakfast.

A lot of fast breaking was done.

 

An hour later brought Harry. 

He’d been awake for a while, audibly moving about upstairs, and it didn’t help Eggsy’s frantic scurrying in the least. Harry’s unusual dawdling made it clear Harry knew Eggsy was up to something (or requesting some kind of alone time, if he knew what Harry would say), and it made Eggsy all the more frustrated. He marched three times to the bottom of the stairs, ready to yell for Harry to just come down already and meet the mess, but ran right back in a fresh attempt to fix it himself anyway. 

But he didn’t, stuck now between three kinds of dishes and completely muddled up. Food wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. He followed the instructions. He could read. He used his phone alarm. And yet, everything flopped. If he could make milk bottles and feed Daisy, he could cook fucking breakfast.

When Harry walked in Eggsy was clutching a bag of flour, standing proudly amidst his empire of disaster with the likeliness of the Grumpy Cat. Bowls of oil and milk here, plates of failed attempts there, three empty glasses of soda (and a tot of scotch) on top of the microwave, two oily burnt pans and an armoury of spoons and forks strewn about the surfaces, complimented by a million sticky and dusty finger prints and food debris. 

It was the dystopia of kitchens with Eggsy as its overlord, and Harry regarded them with wide eyes when he finally graced them with his presence. 

Eggsy blinked stubbornly, jaw squared and pretending his cheeks weren’t on fire and that he wasn’t about to bury his face into the flour bag.

Harry looked around first as if there were booby-traps, stopped a few steps away from Eggsy and then looked back at him with a crinkle of his brows, eyes warm and clear behind his glasses. 

“…Are you…all right?”

Eggsy held his ground for a second, maybe two, and then the weight of failure took him down. He sighed loudly and heavily, hugging the bag to his belly as he looked down, shoulders tight and brows tighter.

“Sorry Harry… I wanted to surprise you. Figured how hard could it be? …A fucking lot, apparently.”

“And what were you trying to make?”

“…Omelettes.” And then pancakes, and then scones. 

Harry made a knowing sound. “Well, that was the worse thing to start with.” He moved forward and reached for the flour. “Come, we’ll make something simple. Let me—”

“No! I wanted to do this _for_ you, on my own.” Eggsy insisted as he ducked, and made his own sound of disagreement as Harry chased after him around the kitchenette and dining room.

“It’s all right—”

“It’s a disaster—!”

“You can try again tomorrow—”

“Yeah, but the surprise is ruined!”

“I’m old, my dear, maybe I will have forgotten—”

“Harry, you remember what shoes _I_ wore last week Tuesday—”

“Just let me—” 

It happened fast—Harry just kept tailing him. 

Eggsy knew Harry’s target was the flour, but it still sprung in him a conditioned fear that Eggsy never truly realised he had. No one liked being chased and hurt, that was obvious and he was definitely no exception, but a forgotten panic shot up his spine when he glanced over his shoulder and found Harry a little closer than he anticipated, hand reaching out and mouth pressed into a firm line. The sight of it, combined with the utter mess Eggsy made and his sloshing emotions, he let the rancid feeling overpower him.

He flinched and scrambled forward a little faster as he turned so not to have his back to Harry. His throat seized up and he was just about to parkour over the dining table to escape when the bag caught on a corner of one of the dining room chairs and tore open. 

Eggsy felt it before he heard it, the puncture hole hooking and yanking him back as if in favour of Harry catching him. Between the panic of losing his unnecessary escape and despite the acknowledgement that he was about to cover the floor in flour Eggsy yanked the bag up and away from the attacking corner, and covered them both in flour.

The bag tore entirely. _Of course it would_ his common sense pointed out to his frazzled instincts as he watched, almost as if in slow motion, as he basically threw the powder at Harry. In the act of doing so (perhaps even before his motor functions started) Eggsy knew what would follow, but he still yanked the bag as close to his person as he could, as far from poor Harry as he could, and received a face full for his efforts.

“I—” he choked, coughing the flour from his mouth as he stared at Harry’s white face. It was everywhere: fogging his glasses, coating his hair, in the little creases on his face, all over his neck and collar, and dusted over his pristine white shirt. The only consolation was the lack of a black jacket.

Then Harry coughed, a tiny puff of powder, and Eggsy burst out laughing.

It was like a slap in the face swiftly swopping fear with amusement. Eggsy doubled over laughing against the chair as Harry wiped his glasses clean with a finger each, moving his lips about to dislodge the thick bits around his mouth.

“I am so— _I’m so sorry_! Ha-Harry?”

Harry opened his mouth to say something but he stopped short. He was clearly fighting a smile, and it both calmed and tickled Eggsy pink for a few moments more before Harry tried again.

“...Just how ‘slick’ do you think I am that I need to be covered in flour?”

“I’m so sorry!” Eggsy gushed, dropping the empty bag now that the damage was done. His bare feet were full of flour as were Harry’s Oxfords. Seeing it just amused him further and he laughed again until his stomach hurt, repeating apologies around every breath as relief flooded in and the door bell rang.

Harry picked up the cleanest dishtowel and started wiping himself, but Eggsy lifted a hand to stop him. Eggsy had far less of a reputation to lose being seen like this, and he trotted with a wistful smile to answer the door

He wasn’t sure who he expected to be there. His pals would’ve called ahead of time, he’d told them to, and it was unlikely it would be his mum. There was Roxy, but she probably had better things to do so early in the morning. Other than that he had no one, so it could only be someone Harry knew, or a kind of public servant.

But he didn’t expect to see Merlin of all people, as tall and imposing as the first day they met.

“Merlin? Er, good-good morning.”

Merlin nodded, tablet in his hand with the Kingsman symbol across the back in a deep gold like the taxi parked behind him.

“Eggsy. Good…morning?”

Eggsy blushed as Merlin took note of the flour _on his fucking robe_ (out of _all_ the days, the man had to choose today), and stepped back into the house so no one else, including Google Images, caught a glimpse. 

“Come in. Harry’s in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, but I’m not here for Harry.” 

Eggsy frowned and opened his mouth as he closed the door after Merlin, but Merlin went off and sought out Harry anyway.

“Oh my.” He said when he entered the dining room. “Did I catch you in a bit of a domestic?” 

Harry chuckled, most of the powder gone from his body but still far from clean. “I’m afraid so. Divorce worthy.”

Eggsy flushed and scratched his head as he made his way back to toe at the bag and pile of flour of the floor. 

“My fault. Tried to make breakfast and broke the kitchen. ...And Harry. Sorry.” He gave Harry a proper apologetic smile, and received one in return with a pat on the shoulder that turned into dusting.

“That’s all right. Merlin, that time already?”

“That time already.”

Eggsy looked between them. “What time?”

“I’m here to follow up. See how you’re doing. Harry, do you mind?” Merlin inclined his head towards the hallway.

Harry nodded. “I’ll go change in the mean time.”

“Wait—” Eggsy grabbed Harry’s arm, clearing his throat as both older men raised their brows. He let go as casually as he could. “Harry doesn’t have to go, everything is—”

“It’s policy.” Merlin said with finality.

“Employee or not. You’ll be fine. It’s for your sake after all. Just be honest.” Harry said, smiling a small smile that Eggsy found comforting, and then left.

Eggsy watched him go with the strangest urge to follow, then reluctantly turned back to Merlin who sat himself at the clean end of the dining table, looking privately amused. He put the tablet down and started flicking through it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Harry’s kitchen like this. Looks lived in.”

Eggsy dusted himself off before taking a seat across from Merlin. “Just wanted to do something, you know? Harry doesn’t make me do much.”

“Is that bad?”

“No? But I dunno. Kinda makes me a freeloader. I mean, Harry’s great. I want to show him—do something nice for once instead’a him doing everything.”

“Are you being honest?”

“Wha’?” 

Merlin leaned forward on the table, fingers interlocked and brows high. “About Harry. Do you really think that he is great?”

Eggsy took a moment, turning his head in scrutiny as he frowned at Merlin from the side.

“...Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Mandatory questions I have to ask. This is the part where you tell me if you’re all right or not.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Oh, no, I’m fine. Harry’s fine. Of course he is. Wouldn’t you know that? You’re kind of friends, yeah?”

“This is for _you_ , Eggsy. This is confidential. If you feel threatened or scared I need to know. Kingsman has a duty to protect the young men we have a hand in marrying off. Otherwise we’d be little better than slave trading.”

“That’s exaggerated, a bit.”

“You’d be surprised to hear what some of our clients think they have the right to do once the contracts are signed.”

“Not hard to guess…” Eggsy looked at his lap in distaste, brushing the fabric off a little more, pressing the seams between his very bare albeit hidden knees. “...I was waiting for that myself.”

“Go on.”

Eggsy shrugged, peeking up at Merlin with a pout and another shrug. The man regarded him coolly, eyes never leaving his face despite how much else there was to look at; much like Harry. He was in a robe for heck’s sake.

“...But it’s all fine. I’m fine. Harry’s never hurt me, I swear.”

“All right. How well do you eat?”

Eggsy looked around them tellingly. 

“Let’s just say there’s always food everywhere.”

“Your personal freedoms?”

“I can go where I want when I want. So long as I let Harry know. He got me a phone and it’s got Kingsman’s number in it, for the taxis. He said I can use it.”

Merlin tapped away on his tablet as they went, nodding and sounding for the most part proved right. “And how are you and Harry getting along?”

“Us? We’re…” God, it felt like he was being asked to write an autobiography, or read out of a diary. He inhaled deeply, shaking his head, then exhaled loudly and shrugged. “We’re better than most, I reckon. Better than what I expected. Harry’s kind. And patient. And he doesn’t scare me anymore.” 

Merlin nodded, chin on his knuckles. “Has he ever hit you? Threatened you?”

“No, never. God, that even sounds mental.”

The words came out before he could stop them, or at least alter them, and he flushed hot when Merlin smiled in response, something warm passing across his face. The older man tapped something else into the device while Eggsy looked towards a burnt pan for some distraction.

“And are you happy here, living with Harry?”

Eggsy stilled and looked slowly back at Merlin. The man was sitting calmly and casually, an unusual sight in Harry’s dining room. In the month Eggsy’s been here he’d gotten used to very many things, even when he thought he wouldn’t be able to. 

He always sat on the side of the table with his back to the wall while Harry sat on the other side closest to the windows. 

Harry cooked fantastic meals and Eggsy cleaned up, plates to the right, cups to the left.

Harry’s glasses of his choice liquor would be to the right end tables around the house; Eggsy’s to the left. 

In fact most of their behaviour followed so; Eggsy to the left, Harry to the right, whether it was walking or eating or talking. Except sleeping, however. Harry seemed to prefer being on the left nearer to the door, though Eggsy wasn’t sure it was still about making sure he didn’t try to run away.

But that didn’t matter. A lot didn’t matter. A lot that Eggsy thought would just didn’t. 

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t cook. It didn’t matter where he came from. It didn’t matter that he talked different. It didn’t even matter that every night he climbed in bed with Harry, sometimes in nothing but boxes on a hot night. 

Harry cooked without complaint, never spoke a bad word about his background or tried to rough out his accent, and rarely let his eyes wander from Eggsy’s face even in their more suggestive moments.

What mattered were all the other things, like Harry not losing it over Eggsy making a wreck out of his shiny kitchen. Like Harry putting a little extra cream on Eggsy’s scones. Like Eggsy being able to run on the treadmill side by side with Harry and feel the tingle of freedom, even in the closed room, running but going nowhere. And like how he could care to get up this morning, toiling like a solider through a barricade, just to make Harry a treat, an offering, a simple (should be simple) gesture from the heart.

None of that would be happening if he wasn’t happy. 

In fact Eggsy imagined a dozen different scenarios of what he thought would be happening right now if Harry hadn’t turned out to be Harry. He would probably be smiling a false smile at Merlin (or maybe even Harry, if Harry hadn’t taken him for himself), assuring them everything was fine, just to watch them go and turn back into the arms of some privileged bastard that would slap him and make him juggle for his next meal. And that was the least scary of them all.

No, he was happy.

He was sitting near bare in a robe in Harry’s dining room out of his own free will. Not to satisfy Harry, but just because he wanted to, because he _could_. Because he was safe. He was confident enough to wreck the kitchen in the first place rather than bury the idea entirely out of fear despite the little hitch a few moments ago. He was welcomed—more than he had been in years even back home—simply by Harry making that _slick_ joke. And it was all for his amusement too because Harry was little else if not there for him. Hence Eggsy’s venture into the current disaster...

And he was comforted that the people who organised his marriage where making an effort to check on him. It was a pleasant surprise. He didn’t think there’d actually be a check up. He really should’ve listened better when signing.

Eggsy smiled to himself for putting the conclusion into tangible, pleasing (albeit a little jumbled) thoughts, and took a deep breath. 

“…I am. I’m happy.” He gave Merlin all the eye contact and confirmation he wanted, confident that there was no lie to be found on his face.

Merlin saw it too. 

“…Good. Just remember you can contact me if you feel you need to.” He slipped Eggsy a card anyway, with that _it’s mandatory_ look. Eggsy took it with a _gotcha_ nod, and slipped it in one of the robe pockets. Then he cracked a smile. “Does Harry falling down or getting a heart-attack qualify?”

“Anything, Eggsy.” Merlin said, leaning forward with a significant rise of his brows that belonged in a multinational corporate meeting rather than a kitchen.

“Okay. Okay? Thanks…?” Eggsy leaned back from its intensity, smiling all the same. “...But yeah, Harry’s a babe. I give him far more shit than he gives me. Honest.”

Merlin put the tablet down and sat back, shaking out one wrist as though to end the _meeting_ and put on his civvies. 

“I don’t doubt Harry for a second. If anything I know he’s spoiling you rotten. Be careful you don’t become a slug that can’t leave the bedroom.”

Whether it was Merlin’s intention or not Eggsy blushed hot at the word _bedroom_ , and rather than ignore it, Merlin cocked his head and settled back a little more casual than looked normal for him, even if he wasn’t wearing a suit and tie but a cosy charcoal jumper.

“Do you want to talk about anything _else_?”

“…Like what?”

“You know what.”

“...Is that mandatory?”

“No.”

“…Well…nothing’s…” Eggsy shrugged at the table to gain some privacy. Merlin’s glasses somehow made it feel like there were two sets of eyes on him.

“I mean…nothing _big_ has happened. Harry doesn’t…it’s not…it’s not a big issue. Going as we go.” Eggsy smacked the table with a kind of conviction, lips pressed shut so not to smile though he was sure he was failing judging by the look on Merlin’s face.

“I’m glad to hear that then. And your test results came back negative, no nasty surprises.”

Eggsy frowned for a moment. “What test—oh, back when— oh okay. Okay good. Good.”

“Harry, we’re done! You can come down.” Merlin called towards the hallway, finally freeing Eggsy from his gaze by looking back at the mess. Eggsy let out a heavy breath, mentally threatening the colour from his cheeks with ice blocks.

They didn’t have to wait long, and Eggsy was glad to hear Harry come down the stairs, rather than suspect him of hiding around a corner the whole time. He was glad he hadn’t insisted for Harry to stay for that particular conversation. 

Harry smiled when he entered, spotless like Eggsy never happened to him. 

“Care to stay for breakfast, Merlin?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Provided Eggsy doesn’t mind some help here?” Harry came to stand by Eggsy, head slightly inclined to the kitchen.

Eggsy gave the wreck one look and flapped a hand. “Yeah I give up, the magic is gone. Help.”

Harry smiled, and looked at Merlin. “Mind lending a hand, Merlin?”

“I suppose. It takes a village to raise a child.”

“Oi.”

Harry gave Eggsy a nudge on the arm. “Go clean up. We’ll sort this out in the mean time.”

Harry’s tone left plenty of room to argue, but Eggsy automatically saw it for the bait it was. He squinted at Harry, who smiled knowingly, then back-stepped out of the kitchen with a look that promised playful revenge. He wasn’t about to battle Harry on anything while Merlin was here, he was only just finding his place. Maybe after a few months when he really felt part of that _old married couple_ vibe he’d take on Harry in front of people—even if the topic was about making breakfast.

 

After fluffing out the robe of the flour Eggsy got dressed properly. He still took a moment to linger by the mirror, admiring the clothes on his body—the clothes Harry bought for him. 

The last time anyone bought him clothes before Harry was...ages ago. By the time he was ten Michelle would accept hand-me-downs from friendly neighbours and friends, and when Eggsy reached his teens he’d gotten the odd job on weekends to buy those awesome trainers everyone was wearing, or the jeans, or cool little gadgets he’d seen on TV. 

But the older he got the deeper Dean’s influence sunk in and soon enough he was buying clothes with the dirty money they reaped crooking people. Needless to say it felt good to be given something to wear without looking in the mirror and not liking what he saw.

When he got downstairs again, quietly parkouring down the stairs (his shoes were clean and left no marks on the walls between the frames), he couldn’t find it in himself to complain about everything being cleaned already and the delicious smell of a cooking batch of scones. 

Eggsy couldn’t help peeking from around the corner, but he was too far away to hear what they were saying. Merlin and Harry were chatting, leaning against the counters and occasionally laughing. It seemed to be casual chit-chat, and why shouldn’t it be? This wasn’t the estate. This wasn’t home where Dean would cackle with his poodle over some nasty joke. This was Harry Hart’s house, and Harry was not a cruel rude bastard. And instinct told him neither was Merlin. Instinct told him he could trust these men. 

“I’m back.” he announced as properly turned the corner, giving them a heads up anyway.

Harry sighed as though in deep relief. “Thank goodness too. It was starting to smell like old man in here.”

Eggsy choked on his spit and bumped into the leg of a chair as laughter burst from his chest, leaving Harry as the sole receiver of Merlin’s dry glower.

Breakfast wasn’t as awkward as Eggsy thought it might be. Harry was clearly good friends with Merlin, and they didn’t bring up the whole marriage thing again, nor did they discuss anything too far from Eggsy’s reach to keep up. It was light-hearted ordinary things about the recent scandal, the traffic, someone leaving coffee on the printer at work, the rising price of milk, and the occasional swing of banter. It was nice. 

Eggsy scarfed down two scones slathered in cream and jam and made the second round of coffee. He thought about inviting his mum and Daisy over again, maybe on a Sunday for breakfast. She’d love the scones, and he could send her home with some.

He’d just stuffed the third scone in his mouth when the theme song of 24 filled the dining room. He passed a muffled and indecent _sorry_ to the older men and quickly dusted his hands on his pants before pulling his phone out. The number was private, but he answered brightly. He was good at messing with salesmen.

“’Ello?”

“ _Hey, Eggsy. Are you busy_?” It was Roxy.

He tried to swallow faster, turning away from Harry and Merlin so not to be pointedly rude, but still exercise his rights to be a free young man. “Jus’ ea’ing. You’a ‘kay?”

“ _I’m fine. I was just wondering if we could move tomorrow up to today? I can’t tomorrow, I‘m leaving town for a couple weeks but I thought instead of cancelling or waiting_ —”

Eggsy swallowed hard, reaching for his coffee to push it down. “Say no more. What time?”

“ _Eleven_?”

“See you there.”

They hung up, and Eggsy turned back to see the damage. Merlin was indifferent, nursing his own scone with a sparsely buttered knife, and Harry looked curious.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, Roxy. Remember our thing tomorrow? She asked if we can do it today. She’s gonna be away or something. Is that okay?”

“Just as well, today was going to be a lazy day. What time?”

“Eleven?”

Harry nodded, tapping a finger on the table. “Maybe we can stop off by the bakery on the way back.”

Merlin lowered his coffee dramatically. 

“You’re eating scones.”

“I’ve developed a sweet tooth, can you blame me?”

Eggsy kept from reading too much into it by stuffing the last of his third scone into his mouth whole.

 

As promised Harry accompanied Eggsy to his dance off with Roxy. And as promised he didn’t give Eggsy any tips or practice beforehand, but he did bring along a small first-aid kit. Roxy brought the tools, and tools they were.

“…Did I say _bring it_? I might have said _wing it_.”

“You said “ _Roxy, bring it so hard that we ruin the polished floor with stab wounds and get a million plastic splinters in our feet_ ”.”

“I think even I have the brains enough to _not_ say that.”

They sat on the floor in the dance studio, empty and private save for the three of them. Harry was seated on the benches, looking amused and interested and _open_. Eggsy was really starting to crave that, it was just hard to gauge what lured it into the open. 

“You’ll be fine.” Harry said. He sounded positive, but he wasn’t the one wearing 8-inch heels. When Harry said he had worn heels, Eggsy was fucking positive there were no heels over 4 inches back in the day. The heels they had on now were bright orange and red, thin tall heels and a steep drop over like a slide. It ass something he’d only ever seen in magazines on models, not girls in the street. Roxy had worn a pair like this on their night out, but these suddenly seemed more terrifying.

“You will, come on.” Roxy prompted. She had put both of their shoes on and now got to her feet with far too much ease. Thankfully she held out her hand for Eggsy as she gestured for him to move his ass. “Upsy daisy. Size looks good, fits.”

“Holy-mother-of-oh-my- _fucking_ —” Eggsy shook his head as Roxy helped him up, shockingly managing to keep her own balance as she did. The feeling was automatic and alien, threatening and _what the FUCK_

“Holy shit. This is _insane_! Oh my God—”

“I know, right? Just relax, stand straight. Don’t lean forward.”

“I think I’m gonna lose. Definitely gonna lose.” It felt like the ground was trying to pull him down to Hell, weakening his knees and limiting his mobility. He felt both stuck in place and about to fall over at any minute, but Roxy held him steady.

“Good thing this is a game amongst friends then. No one’s gonna die.”

Harry shifted to get comfortable, pulling out his phone. “Please and thank you.”

Eggsy saw and snapped his fingers at him, holding tightly to Roxy with the other as he stood as still as possible. “Still record this.”

Harry held it up with a tap to the screen and a mischievous smile. “Right.”

When Eggsy turned back he gave Roxy his undivided attention, accepting both her hands around his wrists as a guide and support. His legs wobbled and his feet were unnaturally curved—he didn’t feel as sexy as he thought he might. It was entirely different from standing on your tippy-toes, and holy hell was he taller, and that definitely felt good.

“Okay so, just breathe. Ladies and some men do it all the time.” Roxy said calmly.

“Easy when you been doing it.”

“I actually don’t wear heels often. That was just for the night. When will you let it go?”

“All right all right, let’s do this.”

Roxy regarded their feet, then released Eggsy until she was holding him with just the tips of her fingers. 

“Let’s try standing on our own.”

“Don’t you mock me.” Eggsy sassed playfully, but he took a deep breath and lifted his hands from her. He held them up as if being arrested, equalising his balance until he felt steady enough to glance at their ridiculous feet. 

Roxy clapped excitedly when he succeeded. 

“Yay! That was easy, hey?”

“Thank God this isn’t an ice rink.”

“Wait you can’t ice skate?”

“I can, technically. But I only been once. It was easier to move than standing in one spot. Don’t think that would apply here though. How the fuck do I…?” he gestured forward awkwardly without moving his weight too much.

“Okay, back straight up, tummy in, and just put one foot right in front of the other. Right in front.”

Eggsy glanced at the camera, face hot but more than willing to embarrass himself for the sake of their collective amusement. It would make nice memories. He needed to start documenting memories—his mum would suggest it eventually. On that note...he couldn’t recall finding any pictures of Harry’s family on the walls, any at all. Maybe he should start changing that…

Roxy stepped back with ease and held her hands out like a mother would to her infant, further reddening the pink on Eggsy’s cheeks, but she was entirely seriously.

He took an exaggerated breath and reached out despite his pride, for the heck of it rather than support. If he fell he didn’t want to fall on her and break something. As funny as it might look on the replay, he wasn’t going to risk it. 

His first attempts were a little stunted. It was the weirdest thing! His feet were bound and stiff. He felt like a toddler, lifting one knee and putting his foot out carefully, testing the wood as if it were lose before joining his foot with the other. It was the most awkward thing he’d ever done, he could not be blamed for the sight he made, stuck between insane giggling and desperate concentration.

“Heel first.” Harry called.

Roxy nodded, rolling her hands in for him to follow. “Right. Heel first. You can’t flex your foot or go toe first, you’ll look ridiculous.”

“Pretty sure I’m already covering that.” 

Eggsy tried it heel first, and his next steps were far easier. It was obvious when he thought of it, he’d watched plenty of girls walking down the street in pretty outfits and heels, but actually walking in them made everything upside down. He followed Roxy a few more steps, stepping front as she stepped back, his hands down by his waist by the time she stopped and reached to squeeze his arm.

“That’s it?” he asked excitedly.

“That’s it! Much better. Now, the trick is just walking on a straight line, one foot after the other.”

With pouted lips and a confident nod Eggsy shooed Roxy back a large space away, and gave Harry a quick peek. His husband was smiling, endearingly and brightly enough that Eggsy caught it in his excitement and blushed a little more, wondering if Harry thought he looked good or stupid. He’d changed into skinny jeans for this, and personally his reflection in the mirrors was fucking gorgeous. Even he wanted get between his legs and swing them over his shoulders.

Shoulders back, hands out to the sides and heel first, Eggsy made a bee-line for Roxy. By third step he was balanced and confident and made the rest with ease, swinging his feet forward and connecting sassily with the polished floors. It gave an automatic swing to his hips, and suddenly the sexy fell into place. 

He whooped when he reached Roxy and threw his arms open for a hug. She shared an awed laugh with him and squeezed him much too tightly than a girl should be able to, and then drew him back to look him over—oh yeah, he had the sexy down now. It took every bit of control to stay natural and not peek at Harry.

“Holy moley that is good, Eggsy!”

“Okay it’s actually _not_ that bad. It ain’t easy, but not that bad. But no wonder they start girls off from small, gotta teach them from young.”

“Which is terrible. Heels are actually really bad.”

“Can’t imagine they’d be good.” Eggsy said, doing something stupid (he wouldn’t admit later to waving a heel like a lightsaber) with his left foot and nearly toppling over. Roxy caught him at the last second, and Harry spoke from the bench.

“Shoulders back.”

Roxy moved to stand beside Eggsy, facing Harry’s way. “Shoulders back, crotch forward.”

“Sounds like a swamp-monster swag.”

“And we take little steps like this…” 

The way back across the room was a piece of cake. Their hips swayed just so and in sync, complimented by the rhythmic clicking of their heels. They held hands half way, laughing and glancing at each other’s feet as they tried _not_ to make a disastrous race of it.

As they went Eggsy took a tiny moment to be grateful for Roxy. She was a wonderful person, and a great addition to his life. He had to wonder why he didn’t feel particularly attracted to her, aside from acknowledging she was gorgeous. More mystery to his new settings, but very little disappointment.

They stopped a few feet in front of Harry. Roxy clapped her hands and swung them over her head, pointing down at Eggsy.

“And Eggsy of Westminster is rocking the block! Great stuff, Eggsy!”

“Fast learner, what can I say?” Eggsy said, throwing on an arrogant expression, leaning to the left. He couldn’t stop from looking straight at Harry this time, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Hey Harry, how’d I do?”

Harry put the phone down and smiled at him. There was an unmistakable flush on his cheeks.

“Better than my first try. Took me a while to wear them in.”

Eggsy opened his mouth again. ‘ _Do I look good?_ ’ almost tumbled out, but it caught in his throat at the last minute. Maybe later, when they were alone.

He turned to Roxy and held out his hand, assuming a position of a gentleman at a ball—who was wearing platform heels.

“Time t’dance, milady.”

Roxy grinned as she took her place. “There’s no contest, okay? We’re just doing this for fun.”

“Relax, I won’t break our ankles. So I take you here and this hand. Right?”

“You can hold tighter. I won’t break.” She adjusted his grips on her waist and her hand, the both of them glancing down at their feet with bubbling amusement.

Eggsy tested his grip, wondering for a second if Harry actually minded their proximity, before focusing on his balance. 

“All right. Oh God, we’re gonna fall.”

“Stop laughing! Now, I go back, you come forward. That foot.” Roxy tapped his shoe with hers.

“Left forward, out right, and close.” Harry said, lifting the phone again. “Left, right, close.”

Roxy nodded, close enough to see she actually _was_ flawless. And yet, Eggsy felt nothing being pressed close to her. A part of him hoped it showed up on the video, maybe for a part of Harry to see.

“Got that?” she asked.

Eggsy shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

The dancing turned out to be much, _much_ harder. Walking wasn’t so bad, and neither was standing, and Roxy was quite good at both, but dear Lord was it yet _another_ challenge not to tangle their feet. It shouldn’t be as hard as it felt, and yet their heels kept connecting, their chests bumping and knocking their breath away, and twice Eggsy’s ankles gave the scariest wobble that made him stiffer and more careful with each step. 

They couldn’t take big steps thanks to the heels, but that made it harder to keep the plastic from connecting. 

_Eventually_ once the rhythm set in it got easier, and Eggsy was shocked to realise he’d just taken a lady for a waltz—heels a bonus success.

Once they’d gotten the hang of it, they got bolder. Roxy had been inadvertently leading, Eggsy realised, after she eased up and let him set the pace. He tightened his grip and strutted a little faster, turning a little sharper, and all but spun her out in a twist. 

Roxy was fantastic, she was ridiculously light on her feet and kept up in a way that could only come from practice and pure talent. She followed him spectacularly and he was grateful for that with him being a rookie, but he also thought they were perhaps just a really good team. 

The fun couldn’t last forever. As good as they got in twenty minutes it led them back to being giddy and giggly and thus sloppy. Eggsy had passed the challenge, they both had, and they veered off by swinging their arms and once trying a spin like they were doing the tango.

Needless to say they ended up on the floor.

Eggsy made sure Roxy ended up on top, her elbow in his gut and his knee in hers, but they got out of it laughing. He pushed her off, feigning a tortured moan as he held his stomach. She did similar as she rolled over, her heels coming up to float in the air as she lay face down.

Harry waited a beat. “You two all right?”

“Yeah.” They groaned in union. Eggsy’s ankles were okay, and it didn’t seem like Roxy’s were twisted either. 

“Pretty sure.” Roxy said when she heaved herself up, turning to plonk herself on her butt and give Eggsy a curtsey wave. “Very nice, Mr. Darcy. I daresay you’re a natural.”

Eggsy pushed up to his elbows to look at her and brought one knee up so his leg bent, the other leg sprawled out. 

“At waltzing or wearing heels?”

Roxy smiled naughtily. “I’ll leave that answer up to Mr. Hart.”

Eggsy couldn’t help it. His eyes flittered to Harry, feeling confident and sexy and bold, more so when he recognised the glint of concealed arousal on Harry’s face. He would never forget the sight of it, he’d locked it away and waited for this moment where he’d be able to spot it again.

“Oh yeah? Whaddya think, Harry?” he found himself asking, trying belatedly to pass off the husky tone to his voice with breathlessness. 

He couldn’t quite stop thinking about _that_ night, the night Harry touched him— _barely_ touched him—and wondered when they’d return to it. A week had gone past and Harry hadn’t given _any_ kind of subtle signal that he was up for more. Eggsy would’ve given his own signal, but he stopped short each time.

For now Harry glanced down at the phone, probably doing something unnecessary to hide his blushing. “I’ll have to deliberate and get back to you.”

“Oh come on! You could’ve said _both_ if you’re gonna say heels!”

“Talking about heels, off we go.” Roxy groaned as she leaned over and pulled hers off.

Eggsy lifted his right foot into her lap when she was done, and gave her a conniving, playful grin until she freed him too, poking the sole of his foot so he snatched it back to replace it with the other foot. 

They got up when they were barefoot and Roxy took the shoes to pack away into her back, wriggling her feet out as she went. Eggsy did the same, shifting foot to foot, when a thought hit him.

“Hey, are you in a rush?”

“Not yet, why?”

“There something I wanted to try. I brought extra socks.”

“Oh dear.” Harry lifted the phone again. 

 

Another half hour later of giggling and chortling, sliding across the studio in socks, Eggsy was sad to see Roxy go. She didn’t know exactly when she’d be back, _but for goodness sake just text me, it’s not the dark ages_ , she’d said. 

She hugged them both, and Eggsy noticed Harry still didn’t seem to show any signs of being concerned or upset with the way they regarded each other. Even he and Harry didn’t touch as casually and often as he and Roxy did. Eggsy hadn’t realised it until today. He and Roxy were comfortable around each other. That was good, right? And everyone could see it wasn’t sexual, yeah?

“So, hungry yet?” Harry asked as they stepped onto the pavement, squinting up at the bright day. Harry had his umbrella with them; _you never know when the weather might change_.

“Actually fucking thirsty.”

“Care for a drink?”

“I’d _love_ a drink. And I know the best pub in all’a London.”

It’d been nearly a month since he’d been back to the best pub in all of London, the Black Prince. Eggsy had a sudden craving he hadn’t realised was there. Harry had a good selection of whiskey and scotch, but nothing beat a good ole pint of lager. 

The dancing had left him thirsty and water or soda wasn’t going to cut it, not with the craving that hit him like a meteor, and when they finally sat down with their drinks Eggsy hummed loudly in bliss. The pub was empty, it was too early yet and it was a work day. It was actually perfect. Eggsy didn’t quite want to run into a nosy neighbour.

“Not bad.” Harry commented about his own drink.

“Fucking tops.” Eggsy gulped his down, toes curling pleasantly in his shoes, soles thrumming. “Thanks for the morning.”

Harry smiled, and raised his glass. “Here’s to brave ankles.”

“Brave ankles.” Eggsy toasted too, smiling a little too hard. After downing more he looked at what remained in his glass rather than staring at Harry, and then thought back to their earlier morning.

“So you and Merlin. Friends for a long time?”

“Twenty odd years. Neither of us have very many friends, but surprisingly we’ve held out. I imagine working together sealed that.”

“Is he married?”

“No. Can’t quite imagine it though.”

“Hard to get along with? Or just a job man?”

“A job man. He’s not as intimidating as he seems.”

Eggsy smiled guiltily, leaning his elbows on the table. There was no such thing as etiquette in this side of town.

“Talking about work, when do you go back?” 

“Still two months to go. I’ve accumulated a lot of time off. I’m a job man myself.”

“You should get Merlin to tie the knot then, like he did you.”

“I think hiding the coffee machine would be a better come back.” Harry chuckled. Then he looked pensive. “How did your talk go? Mind you I shouldn’t ask…”

Eggsy was quick to answer; to reassure. “No, it was good.”

“Are you happy?” Harry asked suddenly, and Eggsy’s heart melted.

Harry looked embarrassed for a moment, perhaps wanting to change his words, but he sealed his lips and swallowed, apparently willing to take the repercussions with some balls. But he shouldn’t be worried, Eggsy thought that was rather obvious. He restrained the urge to reach over for Harry’s hand, grateful that they were in his lap rather than within distance.

“Yeah, Harry. I’m happy.” He said, playful and a little exasperated. Harry wasn’t one to fish for things, he was very self aware too and far too old to be playing games, how could he second guess himself? That left the option that he was serious, that he genuinely concerned that he was not as perfect as he was. That was just ridiculous, and Eggsy didn’t like that one bit.

“I am so happy, you have literally no idea.”

Eventually a little smile found its way back onto Harry’s face. “…Good.” He said softly. “If anything is bothering you don’t hesitate to come to me or go to Merlin if its about me.”

He sounded so damn serious, but it put Eggsy at odds. He just couldn’t see Harry as the bad guy.

“That’ll never happen.” He insisted, but Harry refused to relent.

“Do not be so sure. You’ve only know me for a month.” Harry stopped, closing his eyes when Eggsy frowned, sitting back. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I don’t mean to scare you, but I don’t want you to let your guard down around people too soon. And certainly not for my benefit. You’re entitled to being cautious.”

Eggsy nodded, understanding and believing and _loving_ it. He smiled a little, enjoying the warm buzz in his chest and the feeling of being protected in the hands of another. The last time he’d been alone in a kitchen with two men he’d gotten two shoves, a heavy dose of the name _Muggsy_ , and threats to get out for taking up space. He never wanted to go back to that.

“I get it. I was really cautious before. Like in the beginning. I thought you would be some strict principle that would…y’know, pull my pants down and spank me. Very mildly speaking. But you’re good.”

“It’s not a silly worry. Worse has been done to the men that go through Kingsman and its not joking matter.”

Eggsy nodded to show he was taking this seriously, because Harry sure was. 

“You ever helped anyone _out_ of their contracts?”

“Yes, of course. There was only so much you could do to review a man, and sometimes they’re very good at hiding their flaws. But such a case hasn’t happened in many years, we’re always knocking up security and clearance standards.”

“What was the worst case you ever dealt with?”

“Sorry Eggsy, classified. Though there were two particular ones that still haunt me personally, that’s all I can say. Merlin and I have done all we can since being taken on to stop things like that happening again.”

“Didn’t the bobbies get involved?”

Harry pursed his lips, snorting lightly through his nose. “Sometimes. Usually not. Being homosexual thirty-forty years ago wasn’t as acceptable as it is now.”

“Still not as acceptable as it should be.”

“Exactly. Not too many men willing to step in and do their duty, as though a young gay man’s life means nothing. Bunch of pretentious pricks.”

Eggsy smiled a small crooked smile to the right, taking another sip as he looked off in thought of Harry and the many other young men he must have come into contact with during his years. No wonder Harry knew how to handle him, he’d had plenty of experience. How many had been good, how many had been bad? How many had Harry had to save from rotten buyers? How many had been hurt for him to be so adamant about it all?

“…Can’t be an easy job. Seeing all that, sending kids off. I’d be worried sick.”

Harry smiled, though it was a little empty. “We try not to get personal… But we keep a weather eye. Things are much better today. Far fewer places to hide thanks to technology. Even without Facebook everyone leaves hidden digital data easily accessible if you’re a tech wizard like Merlin.”

Eggsy chuckled, easily believing that, and settled back into his seat with a fresh wave of gratitude and happiness that all Harry’s solemn staring couldn’t dampen.

“I’m glad you picked me.” He said, face spotting with colour. Harry seemed to pause, blinking in surprise. 

Eggsy smiled at him, and the fact that their eye contact was comforting rather than stressing gave him all the backup he needed. “I literally can’t imagine myself with anyone else. I’m really, really glad and I love being here. With you. So thanks.”

It felt like he was supposed to end off with a kiss or something, something to solidify his words to Harry, and get rid of that damn furrow of his brows. But Harry just sat still and silent.

“And you don’t have to worry about me. I know the world. And I know people. I can handle myself.”

Suddenly the doors to the pub swung open, audible and letting in a chilly draft that had nothing to do with the wind. 

“Oi, what the _fuck_ you doing here? You taking a piss?”

Eggsy went cold, throat seizing as he turned his head to watched Rottie and his gang march into the pub like they had a very specific bone to pick.

“Some examples of the people you know?” Harry glanced at them.

“Yeah. C’mon.” Eggsy shifted to get up, but Harry infuriatingly remained where he was, lifting his glass.

“Nonsense, we haven’t finished our drinks.”

 _Fuck the fucking drinks_ , Eggsy almost shouted, knee bouncing as the pack of mutts surrounded their table. It was like six against two, and he wasn’t exactly carrying any knives on him to even _try_ make the field even. He looked worriedly at Harry and everything they’d done today—since day one—starting smearing into an ugly indistinguishable drip against the forefront of his mind.

Rottie was closest, shoulders high and hunched as if to make them cower. Poodle was next to him, and leaned towards Eggsy with a leer he must have been practicing all month, the rest of them hovering like a body fence—which wasn’t for nothing, everyone knew he was good at being slippery.

“After you nicked his car Dean says you’re fair game, and he don’t give a shit what your boyfriend says.”

Eggsy was breathing hard, noticeably, too scared to acknowledge that he _hated_ how scared he actually felt, or how he wanted to stand up to these pricks, or how he wanted to push Harry straight through the wall. This wasn’t just about the car, they’d use any excuse to mess with him, but fuck if he didn’t bring this one on himself.

While he panicked, frozen stiff, Harry didn’t seem to notice—unusual. Nor did he seem to notice how bad this was. Harry leaned forward ever so slightly as if trying to get the gang’s attention—which he did—and gained Eggsy’s as well.

“Um, listen, boys. I’ve had a rather delightful day so whatever your beef with Eggsy is—and I’m sure it’s well founded—” Harry had seen the security footage, he definitely knew it was, and he gave Eggsy a mock look of warning between breaths, “I’d appreciate it enormously if you could just leave us in peace, until I’ve finished this lovely pint of Guinness.” He finished off with the worst head tilt imaginable, kind and innocent and displaying enough manners for the lot of them. It was not in any way a strength around here, and his courteous request was just _asking_ to be ignored.

Eggsy closed his eyes in dread, but this was not the time to be closing his eyes against danger, and he peered up for a response.

Rottie looked dryly at Harry as if he were an insignificant rock under his shoe. When he spoke it was slow and deliberate. Rottie didn’t have a sense of humour, he was always too serious for his own good, but he usually had a lot to say. Right now he meant business.

“…You should get outta the way granddad or you’ll get hurt’n all.” 

Eggsy quickly looked back at Harry, his pulse taking off. “He ain’t joking, you should go.”

Harry back looked at him, not a flicker or furrow to be found. Eggsy frowned harder, searching for that solemn serious man from a few moments ago, willing him to realise how hurt he really could get. It couldn’t happen, it just couldn’t. 

He leaned over, cradling his elbows, and willed Harry with his eyes to just _leave_. He could bet he hadn’t looked so scared since their first night together, and yet Harry still showed no sort of concern or acknowledgement. It was confusing and even more frightening but Eggsy just wanted him gone, far away from these bastards, from this…from his life. Eggsy wanted him nowhere near it.

Just when Eggsy thought he’d start shouting at Harry, Harry sighed and put his glass down. He gave Eggsy a nod that _seemed_ put out, and shifted out of his seat. 

“Excuse me.” He said as he got up, picking up his umbrella.

As Rottie made way, dramatically gesturing towards the exit, Eggsy stared hard at the table and willed himself not to panic further. He bit the inside of his bottom lip and stared, equal parts grateful Harry had taken his way out, and utterly devastatingly lonely.

Every moment he’d spent with Harry, safe and comforted, had done nothing but soften him and now he was going to pay for letting his guard down. He should’ve known it was too good to be true. What difference would Harry’s presence make coming to _this_ pub of all places? It had been dumb, so dumb. Of course it was still like this. Nothing had changed. _This_ was reality, and his dream was currently making its way out the door.

And then it got worse than he could possibly imagine.

“If you’re looking for another rent boy they’re on the corner of Smith Street.” 

_No God please_

It was Poodle, perhaps Dean most salacious goon. 

He’d often made passes, taunts and wasn’t scared to leer at him even in front of Michelle, and it was little surprise that he’d pull this out as bitter ammunition. As if Eggsy would have _ever_ taken the knee for him, or any of them. Dean had got him on his knees for one of his friends before, and Poodle had been forever peeved it wasn’t any of them. But if he couldn’t understand he was little more than a pet to Dean, then how would he ever accept Eggsy would rather have killed himself than service them.

But from their point of view why shouldn’t he? He _was_ a rent boy, and no amount of waltzing or dining or manners would change that. Especially not now that Harry had heard. It was out. His secret was out. He was out.

The words and emotions boiled like acid in a pot, spitting and bubbling inside him but Eggsy couldn’t express it. He couldn’t do anything but witness as his shoulders rose and hunched, a pathetic defence as the group closed in on him. He was going to suffer, and he couldn’t find the will to save himself this time.

“ _Manners_ —” Harry said loudly, making them all turn abruptly as he put up the latch on the pub door. 

“Maketh,” he latched up the other one, nosily and forcefully, appearing taller than Eggsy had ever seen.

“Man…” Harry latched the lock at the handles, sealing them in good and well now. He didn’t see how Eggsy closed his eyes in despair. His eyes were on the gang through the branded mirror on the wall.

“Do you know what that means?” Harry asked, and received a handful of shrugs. “Then let me teach you a lesson.”

At the last moment Eggsy looked back, teeth clenched as the feeling of self-despair battled with his concern for Harry, when all hell broke loose with the swing of an umbrella. 

Rottie went down first, compliments of the umbrella and a beer glass. One second it was quiet, and the next Harry was swinging his arm, whipping his umbrella and Rottie is hit smack in the face. It was so fast and unexpected that his thugs just stepped back and watched him hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. Eggsy lost his eyebrows in his hairline, and then it all became a blur.

Rottie’s gang threw the first punch of the fight, but it didn’t land. None of them landed through the entire fight. It was like a dance, practiced and choreographed and to the last note—the notes of their grunts and groans, and the loud uncountable hits that Harry landed. 

Harry made no sound through it all, and from what Eggsy could see between flashes his expression never changed either, knives or fists or bottles presented. He faced down an entire gang without a sound, cool as a cucumber and frankly frightening as fuck.

But dear Lord he was a vision. Eggsy had never _ever_ seen anything like it, nor felt what he did as he watched Harry Hart tear apart the men in front of him.

Every instinct was screaming at Eggsy to get up and help somehow or jump out the fucking window, but every second his eyes held him in place.

It was almost incomprehensible, _where was this coming from_? What the _fuck_? Questions and feelings were racing through Eggsy a mile per second but Harry dominated the scene without giving _anyone_ a chance. All Eggsy could do was observe, gape and trust he wouldn’t forget to bring this up later because _holy fucking shit this was not the man he married_.

This was someone else entirely.

Working out at the gym could _not_ create this, Eggsy was fucking certain, but the rest of his worries drained away when Rottie pulled out a gun.

Only Harry was ready, equipped with his trusty umbrella. The fucking thing was bullet proof, and apparently a weapon too. It fired a kind of rubber shot and Rottie went down just as Harry came up, triumphant in a room of unconscious bodies.

Harry looked right at him when he rose, his expression finally having changed, and changed into something darker. There was a tension in it, a determination, but also a fierceness that betrayed the calm set of his features even as he _darted the fucking bartender_.

As Eggsy sat catching flies, Harry straightened out, tossing his umbrella from right to left before heading calmly back to his seat. He put the umbrella down and sat, sighing heavily.

Eggsy shifted upright and back into his own seat, incredibly aware of their ruined surroundings and lost to how he felt. So he sat and did nothing, as blank outside as he now was inside. The only question that remained was _how_ , and Eggsy couldn’t make a peep lest he somehow become a part of the blood and glass around them.

While Eggsy’s frown started forming Harry returned to his drink and finished it, and then put the glass back down with a sigh of regret. When he spoke his words conveyed it, but Eggsy was still trying to figure out how _he_ felt.

“Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

“…” Eggsy leaned further back into his chair.

Harry swallowed, jaw moving about slightly as they stared at one another, and for once it wasn’t full of sexual tension.

Then Harry got up and adjusted his suit as he looked down nonchalantly at Eggsy, as if he hadn’t just won an actual fucking bar fight.

“Do you like dogs?”

“Yes…”

“Want a puppy?”

“…Yes...”

“Let’s get a puppy.”

“…Yes.”

 

Harry took him to the pound. There were a dozen dogs there of all shapes and sizes. Most of them weren’t of the best breeds, but then neither was Eggsy. He wasn’t drawn to the fancy dogs, some lost, some abandoned, some wild, but instead found himself back tracking to the kennel where the tiniest of pups sat huddled in a corner. It looked miserable and cold despite the decent conditions of the establishment, and Eggsy immediately felt a kinship. Not to mention having a bulldog was badass.

Harry didn’t complain nor compliment his choice. He just smiled at the pick and asked the keepers to prepare him for pick up tomorrow. Eggsy and Harry would have to prepare themselves as well. 

The decision was, of course, brash and rushed. Eggsy opened his mouth a few times to say so, let Harry know they didn’t _have_ to get a cute little puppy out of some weird need to make up for what just happened. Harry clearly regretted it, his eyes troubled and far off (from what Eggsy could judge by the glimpses he got around all the carefully manoeuvred avoidance). 

Eggsy couldn’t tell what he was thinking of, nor did he dare ask when they were suddenly shying from each other. Although, Eggsy prayed it was the fight that was concerning Harry, and not what Poodle had said. Harry hadn’t brought it up yet, and Eggsy tried to calm himself by assuming Harry hadn’t quite understood.

Aside from that it all settled very heavily along with the bags of dog food and accessories, like some kind of crazy dream that’d had finally taken place, and yet became an unbelievable mound in the middle of everything. 

Harry had protected him from Rottie and the gang, and he’d gotten him a puppy. There were no words to explain how unbelievable it was. He had not woken up that morning preparing for this. The only thing that made it real was unpacking the stuff for the puppy; Harry was as well put together as ever.

Eggsy said nothing to rock the boat—on either of their sides. He tried not to stare at Harry either, biting his lip to gnaw away the questions and guilt and instead focused on his puppy. He’d need a name. He’d sleep in the room with them, he decided. Harry had bought a little bed for him that could be put by the door. Or maybe on Eggsy’s side of the bed, nice and snug between the bed and the wall. He was only a puppy after all. He’d be scared for a bit.

Eggsy didn’t feel scared though. Not of Harry.

But he was scared of what Harry might have heard.

 

Harry ordered in Italian for dinner. They ate quietly and leisurely, their afternoon taking no rush after the collision there was earlier. They shared small insignificant talk that grated on both their nerves, Eggsy could tell, but he couldn’t bring himself to raise his own concerns. Instead he waited until they sat down in the living room with a glass of scotch each.

But what eased the tension was that Harry sat on the two-seater, leaving a clear invitation for Eggsy to join him rather than sit alone.

Eggsy did, gladly, knees apart whereas Harry had his crossed. They both seemed to sink into the backrest, heads back and glasses rising occasionally.

Eventually Eggsy sighed loudly, and looked at Harry.

“…Thanks for today. All of it.” _But especially for protecting him._

Harry waited a moment before looking at him, and smiled softly. He gave a small shrug afterwards. 

“Self defence is a skill set necessary for the job.”

Eggsy chuckled. “That was more of an offence, bruv. Not that I’m complaining but…—but that was _amazing_ , Harry! It was fucking brilliant! I didn’t even know—I mean I didn’t—you just—I was so scared for a second. I didn’t want them to hurt you. It was so close. But then you just _wham_! Fucking brilliant! Gold it was! You’re—it was…”

It all came out in one barely decipherable gush, but Harry seemed to understand, smiling down at his drink.

“Aside from stealing their car, which does call for retaliation, did they bother you often?”

Eggsy deflated somewhat, and turned to his own drink. 

“Yeah. I can’t say I was completely innocent but you can’t just sit quietly and let ‘em win. I’d rather take a beating.”

Harry’s hand closed over his knee, and Eggsy looked up sharply to Harry’s steely gaze.

“You won’t have to ever again. I promise.”

Eggsy wanted to melt and sigh and hum and laugh in relief, maybe do a little dance. Instead he swallowed them all and followed Harry’s hand, trying to breath evenly through his nose as Harry’s hand spread warmth over his knee through his jeans.

“Thanks…” he said, and placed his hand over Harry’s.

It was a bold move for them, and again he swallowed down the bubbling urges to rejoice as Harry turned over his own hand, and curled his fingers around Eggsy’s.

Eggsy swallowed physically this time as his body flared, his mind screaming at him in recollection of what these hands had done earlier. These big firm fucking _paws_. It was curious for a gentleman of Harry’s class to have such rough capable hands, as well as the knowledge to _defend_ them like he had. Eggsy had thought he was rather decent at a fight himself, his own hands rough and hardy, but both fell short in sight of Harry’s. And right now, he didn’t mind, because they were on his side.

It was an unusual moment where Harry indulged him and let Eggsy flex their fingers, gently brushing their palms together and comparing digits. Harry’s fingers were _so_ much longer when pressed up against Eggsy’s, thick knuckled and tough skinned. Eggsy watched them in awe, wondering just how it felt to get hit by these. He thought briefly to Dean and what he would think of this, but for the moment his memory held no fear. Harry had proven himself an unbeatable knight without breaking a sweat, gun included—which he still owed more answers to. 

“I _really_ like what you did…it was nice.” Eggsy said when the silence became too much. 

“I needed to let off a little steam.”

Eggsy chuckled softly in awe, but it ebbed off into a fizzle of worry. 

Was Harry not curious as to why he’d been called a rent boy? But maybe Harry heard it in _their_ context, their kind of situation, rented for keeps from the agency rather than off the streets. Technically it wasn’t that far of a stretch, but at least it gave him cover. Yes. That was probably it, and if it kept Harry from knowing the dirty truth, Eggsy would definitely play along...

“I like that you don’t look the part. Like, y’know, so fucking deadly. Nice surprise for the pretentious pricks. And prolly a _huge_ scare.”

Harry chuckled and put his drink down and shifted slightly more towards Eggsy now that the ice had been broken. He didn’t untangle their hands, and instead squeezed lightly, almost experimentally.

“Well if you can’t scare them then what’s the point?”

“That’s so cool.” Eggsy said with a fat, dreamily grin. He knew he must look ridiculous and probably completely smitten, but he felt warm and fuzzy and shifted to face Harry better too, being braver with their hands. “You’re cool, Harry Hart.”

“I am cool.” Harry agreed snobbishly, and Eggsy laughed. Then Harry winked and leaned over to whisper, making Eggsy blush. “But don’t tell Merlin.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“You swear?”

“On my life. Ask the feds I’ve never grassed anyone up.” Eggsy licked his lips to wet them, his short breaths doing him no favours, especially not as he shifted a little closer. “And definitely not you.”

Harry made a funny sound in the back of his throat as he took off his glasses, a cross between resignation and amusement, and proceeded to nearly shock Eggsy out of his seat. 

“You’re genuinely a randy little thing aren’t you?”

“ _God_ … Y’just bring it out in me. I swear I had more class.” Eggsy said quickly, blood boiling within the second as his palms started to sweat now as the tension from the day diffused into something more manageable, but equally as frustrating.

But for once Harry wasn’t shying away. He was staring at Eggsy with surprising firmness, face open as though he had nothing to hide now that he’d torn Rottie and them a new one, and openly caressed the skin of Eggsy’s palm. He left a burning everywhere he touched despite how hot Eggsy already was, and seemed to be soaking in every flickering response Eggsy couldn’t hold in.

Eggsy was just about trying to cover his erection with his elbow when Harry gave a quick sigh, as though he’d been internally debating the whole time.

“All right.”

Eggsy stilled. “All right? What all right?”

Harry brought Eggsy’s hand to his lips, and brushed them against the back. Not quite a kiss, but Eggsy could feel his warm breath and the line of his lips when he spoke, and it made Eggsy rock hard in seconds. 

“You tell me.”

“Holy shit. Really?!” 

Harry paused and looked for something in his eyes. “Well…”

“No, wait—” Eggsy blurted, cutting that shit off before it could start. He pulled his hand back and got to his knees, swinging one over Harry’s thighs so he could settle in his lap facing him. He shivered pleasantly when Harry shifted to give his invading legs more space around him, and settled his palms on both of Eggsy’s knees.

“You know what? You haven’t kissed the bride yet.” Eggsy said. He tried not to sound as breathless as he was, but holy _shit_ this was happening! 

Harry inhaled quietly and tilted his head rather than turning away. 

“Does he want a kiss?”

“He would like a kiss. If the groom is into that.”

Harry breathed softly for a few moments, eyelashes fluttering as he glanced over Eggsy’s face, and then he reached up and cupped Eggsy’s jaw with both hands.

Eggsy held his breath as Harry pulled him down, and closed his eyes as Harry kissed him, slowly and innocently. It was nothing but the soft press of lips, a tiny bit of moisture shared between them from Eggsy’s lip-licking.

He opened his eyes the moment they parted, and groaned when he Harry seemed to lick his lips subconsciously in response.

“…I told myself I’d wait until our one year anniversary.” Harry said, thumbing his cheeks.

Eggsy groaned, this time at the thought, and held onto Harry’s wrists.

“Wha’, seriously? Harry I think y’being _too_ gentlemanly now. That’s crazy. If I was scared or underage or something then yeah, but I’m not, I swear. I can make my own choices. You don’t have to protect me all the time. I’mma law-breaking punk if you forgot. I done plenty heavier stuff.” The last bit came out against his better judgement so he prattled on quickly, shrugging and shifting enticingly on Harry’s warm lap. “Y’don’t have to baby me. I promise.”

“If it’s what you want.” Harry said agreeably after a moment. There was a hint of reluctance in it now, but it didn’t dampen the thrill that Harry was initiating this.

Eggsy looked at Harry’s lips and swallowed again, wanting beyond want to fucking French kiss this man silly. He was genuinely surprised he was holding himself back, but he also reminded himself of a trained animal resisting its nature.

And Harry called him _randy_ dear Lord...

“I’m game.” He said— _pleaded_ —and sat completely still as Harry started drawing his hands down his neck.

“Maybe a small game.” Harry said as he ghosted his hands over Eggsy’s chest. He slipped them under Eggsy’s arms and down, settling firm over the well toned band of Eggsy’s waist. And when Eggsy shifted closer, Harry didn’t spurn him. 

“Harry…” Eggsy breathed, suddenly unsure now that Harry had opened the field. He drew his own hands back and placed them around Harry’s arms, intensely aware of the lithe muscle beneath his white dress shirt. 

“Eggsy.” Harry responded, but Eggsy shook his head, suddenly fervent, and with a zing of boldness, leaned forward so their noses were touching.

“The other ones.” He whispered.

Harry seemed to jerk forward into him, just keeping from kissing him as they breathed into each other. It was almost as good as.

It took Harry a moment. Eggsy started to think he didn’t know what he meant, prepping himself to hint some more, when Harry brought one hand up again and cupped the back of Eggsy’s neck, and spoke against his mouth.

“ _Gorgeous darling_.”

Eggsy curled over with a pathetic whimper. 

“Fuck.” Harry swore against his face.

Eggsy stuttered out his last bit of air as Harry’s hands tightened painfully around him. Eggsy tightened his in response as his entire body vibrated.

“I want you,” Eggsy blurted breathlessly. His eyes widened at the confession, spoken clear and firm, but he didn’t recant it. The words made him feel alive, and for once in his life, in control.

“Harry, I want you.” He repeated.

Harry looked as surprised as he felt.

“Harry—”

“Not that.” 

Eggsy swallowed back his raging hormones in an effort to concentrate, but Harry was making it difficult by not letting him move back. Eggsy wasn’t about to complain, Harry genuinely looked like he was about to destroy him, but he also looked torn.

“I got lube.” Eggsy offered weakly, but it didn’t surprise him when Harry shook his head. It was a consolation that Harry looked quite pained, pawing at him, but as much as Eggsy wanted this he didn’t want to go against Harry’s obscure wishes. He wanted Harry to want to, just as much as Harry wanted _him_ to want to. 

“Lord, do you tempt me.” Harry breathed, blinking repeatedly as if it would steady him. 

“Feeling the same here, y’know…,” Eggsy said thickly, brushing his nose against Harry’s. His groin was throbbing, gut curling and thrumming as lust poured through him. He could vaguely make out Harry’s hardness beneath him, but it was difficult in his jeans and their position.

“You are absolutely lovely. I swear it, dear boy.”

Eggsy laughed, feeling a weird sense of shyness for the moment.

“Thank you.”

Harry took a deep breath, and pulled his hands back to Eggsy’s knees. He regained his composure, and face near unreadable. Eggsy was about to whine about it, and then Harry squeezed his knees.

“If you can say it out loud, then we’ll do it.”

Eggsy frowned a little. “Why?”

“So that I am not jumping to assumptions or projecting my own thoughts onto you. Tell me what you want from me, and I’ll do it for you.”

Eggsy flushed hot. “Sounds kinda one sided.”

“It is. Sort of.”

“So it will be like last time? You won’t…?”

Harry smiled crookedly. “I will be fine.”

Eggsy sighed. 

“But y’don’t have t’be…”

Harry sighed too. And then he nodded once.

“All right. Tell me what you want then.”

Oh the filth Eggsy could spew, and yet his throat clogged at the thought of it. There were a dozen things he wanted to do, was _ready_ to do, but _saying_ it out loud… It reminded him of being with a customer. It was demeaning and oppressive, despite how much he wanted to beg Harry to do things to him and offer in return. He just… 

Eggsy closed his eyes.

“I can’t.”

Harry was quiet, and then he took Eggsy’s hands from his arms and held them in his hands, resting them in Eggsy’s lap.

“That’s all right too.”

“No, Harry—” Eggsy groaned, and sat back a little to hang his head back. “I want to, but…” He closed his eyes again. He had to tell Harry before it was too late. If he confessed now, it could he dealt with and done and forgotten. Harry liked him, Eggsy was sure, and he was a good man. Surely he would understand. He wanted to believe he would. He knew he would.

“Eggsy?” Harry pulled on his hands. He looked worried, but still not privy to what Eggsy was worried about.

Eggsy started going cold—what does he do? _Fuck_!

“Eggsy, what’s wrong? I’m only asking so that—”

“I know, I get it. I just can’t. I—” Eggsy took back a hand to gesture at himself, but he fell short and shook his head, trying not to panic because this was _Harry_. If anything, Harry might storm out to avenge him…

“I just…”

“You can speak to me, Eggsy. I am here for you. I always will be. Let me help.”

Eggsy started tearing up before he could stop it. He groaned loudly and scrubbed his face when Harry shifted in alarm.

“Eggsy—”

“I’m okay! I’m fine. I’m okay…” Eggsy wiped angrily at his big fat crocodile tears, scowling at the loss of his erection and confidence. Why was this so hard? All of it, in the bedroom? They were _married_. It was a legal and life-time contract. Most hesitation on stuff like sex could be considered pointless. It wasn’t hard sleeping next to Harry, somehow it was far less sexual than one would think. They didn’t have a problem there. It just worked. So why couldn’t this just work? 

“Saying it makes me feel…” Eggsy swallowed a lump and rubbed his stomach. “…used.”

Harry’s expression cleared almost instantly. It flickered a second after, too fast for Eggsy to recognise, before it went blank again and he took Eggsy’s hands into his own. Then he kissed them.

“I apologise.”

Eggsy nodded, partly irritable and partly fuzzy as Harry proceeded to kiss all over his hands. Eggsy wanted him to kiss his neck. He frowned when he felt the ball in his throat lessen.

“…Kiss my throat.”

Harry looked up. Eggsy looked firmly back at him, a little unsure, but it hadn’t been hard to get those words out. 

Then Harry sat up and cupped his neck without saying a thing, and dipped his face into his throat. He smelt Eggsy lightly, audibly and sent shivers down Eggsy’s back even before his lips met Eggsy’s fluttering pulse.

Harry didn’t play around this time. He kissed again, then again, and again and again until he was parting his lips and wetting Eggsy’s skin. The sounds themselves were obscene and salacious, wet and full of lust, but the way Harry kept moving towards him— _against_ him—had Eggsy going from not to hot in seconds. 

Harry had him by the neck and the waist, sitting up in his seat so they were pressed up close and personal. His hands weren’t as careful as they usually were, squeezing and kneading as he lathed Eggsy’s hot skin with kisses and nibbles and once, a tiny bite.

It was world-rocking. Eggsy groaned and leaned a hand over on the back of Harry’s seat, and snaked the other in Harry’s hair to encourage him. And though he waited, he didn’t feel less for asking. He felt in control again.

“I want—” What did he want? Harry didn’t want to have sex, but he was up for a little something. So what did Eggsy want? It was up to him. But it was also _for_ him, most of it, not _them_

He just wanted it to be simple, like sleeping in the same bed was. He wanted it to be easy and casual—bloody hell he wanted it _sweet_. He wanted it sweet and quiet and without explanation.

He wanted it to be domestic.

At some point Harry had stopped mouthing at his throat. He was looking up at him, obviously trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Eggsy blushed as the idea popped into his head, but there was nothing obstructing the words from leaving his mouth.

“…I wanna take a shower together.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, Eggsy could readily spot those expressions, but he closed it again and took a moment. Then he nodded, and Eggsy popped his brows.

“…You okay with that?”

“If something were to happen in there…” Harry trailed off with a pointed turn of his face, “would you tell me to stop if you needed me to?”

“If something happens it’ll be cause I’ll try to ask first.” Eggsy said, and met Harry’s eyes again when Harry lifted his chin.

“If something is to happen, guide me, like we do when dancing. You don’t have to speak it. But you must stop me too. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable or unhappy.”

“Me too.” Eggsy wiped away one last stray tear. “I mean—I mean I don’t want you feeling that either. I just want to be close to you.”

Harry smiled, and leaned up to kiss him. It was one tiny little peck on the lips that bumped the tips of their noses together, but it was full of love, and Eggsy melted.

He wondered if this was what love was like.

“Come on then, love.”

 

Getting from the living room and into the shower was a blur. Maybe it was nerves or self defence instincts, or something else enitrely, but Eggsy drifted after Harry without feeling or acknowledging anything until Harry was helping him out of his clothes and into the steady stream of the shower. 

He moved without thought, unbuttoning his pants, kicking his shoes off, all while avoiding looking at Harry.

Not because he was too shy or scared, but because of the feeling that Harry wouldn’t quite want him to—not so directly at least. Harry was proper, and Eggsy was really starting to enjoy that. His neck was thrumming were Harry had started on, and by the time Harry pulled closed the shower curtain Eggsy was sporting a heavy erection.

He had his back turned to Harry, his head hung just a little as he reached to place on hand on the wall for support as the reality ever so slowly crept up on him.

Then the water joined them, warm and soothing, and Harry started sponging his back with one of Eggsy’s shower poofs.

Eggsy closed his eyes and hummed softly to voice his gratitude and agreement, and stood still for a good minute as Harry took it upon himself to wash him. 

They said nothing. Eggsy lifted an arm here, moved a leg there, but otherwise let Harry wipe the day from his body. It was relaxing and refreshing and _exhilarating_ , quickly bringing Eggsy’s senses back on track with his physical desires.

Harry stopped at one obvious area, and held his hand against the curls in the V of Eggsy’s hips.

“Harry…” Eggsy breathed. 

He pressed back so that the bit of space Harry gave him disappeared, and he flinched slightly at the proud jut of Harry’s cock against his arse. He pressed back again to reassure Harry that he was okay with it, and slowly reached down to pull the sponge from Harry’s hands. 

He dropped it to their feet after a moment of deliberation, and he breathed deeply as it landed between his feet.

“Yes?” Harry whispered, as still as stone.

Eggsy swallowed, eyes still closed. It was easier that way, he felt braver and he didn’t over think. It was just him and Harry, pressed close and snugly like most nights these days. Harry always draped an arm around him when they slept, but only when Eggsy squirmed closer first.

“… _Please_ …” Eggsy hissed when the pressure in his groin became too much. He steeled himself against the doubts and the worries beating against his closed lids and lead Harry’s hand to his cock. 

Harry only took control of his hand when they made contact and not a second sooner. And fuck was it control.

Eggsy gasped and arched back into Harry when the man grasped his cock firmly. He made a funny sound and reached to grab at the back of Harry’s head and held tight, baring his neck like a maiden to a vampire.

Without preamble or questions Harry started fisting him. The glide was slick and smooth thanks to all the soap and water running down Eggsy’s chest.

Eggsy abandoned the wall in favour of clutching to Harry, reaching back blindly until Harry curled his other arm around his waist and held him up. Eggsy held tightly onto his forearm and turned his neck further, offering the neglected side for Harry to lavish. And lavish Harry did.

This time there were pointedly more bites, little nips across his shoulder as Harry brought his big warm fist over Eggsy’s red throbbing cock over and over. Each pump had a nip, a terrible double strike that made Eggsy’s toes curl and his heart thump out of his chest. It felt like punches to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs faster than he could inhale.

The air was steaming and it wasn’t all due to the warm water, moisture collecting on the walls around them, on them, in Eggsy’s eyes. _He couldn’t believe this_. 

He opened his eyes in an effort to, and groaned deep in the back of his throat as Harry tugged him closer with a groan of his own, their wet bodies melded together without a single barrier. Harry had been so careful with him since he’d first got here, and he was still being careful, fingers splayed across his belly like he was something delicate and precious.

Eggsy blinked at his blurry surroundings, trying desperately to focus on his breathing, but all he wanted to focus on was Harry as he kissed under his ear, curling and tugging and winding his long capable fingers over his cock. _His cock_!

Again Eggsy noted the funny sounds coming out of his own throat, sounds he was almost positive he’d never made before. But he didn’t stop them. Harry seemed to crowd him a little further with each sound, as if he was trying to get in his skin, all the while holding back the obvious jerking of his hips. Eggsy tightened his hands around Harry in response to mirror the need.

He also noted again the thing pressing against his arse. He didn’t reach for it, it didn’t feel like the moment to, as crazy as that seemed. Instead he turned his head to look Harry’s way, somewhere by his shoulder, and stood on his tippy toes.

“Put it—be-between my le-legs...?”

Instead of answering in words Harry made an unintelligible sound of arousal that made Eggsy grin dreamily, knocking his head against Eggsy’s as he started to mumble nonsense. 

Perhaps praise, perhaps regrets, perhaps sweet nothings, the water made it slightly difficult to hear, but he didn’t push Eggsy away. He hugged him tighter for a moment, holding their burning bodies taunt, and then he relented once more to Eggsy’s wishes.

Eggsy stood up as high as he could as a second invitation, and gave Harry a single tug on his hair to prompt Harry to drop just a little, scorching Eggsy’s skin where Harry’s cock glided against him. Harry turned so it just slipped into the seam of Eggsy’s buttocks, and lowered just enough until head of his prick popped in beneath. Harry seemed to finally lose it there, and pushed it between Eggsy’s thighs with a single instinctual thrust.

They moaned instantaneously. Eggsy stumbled back closer and clutched tighter to Harry as a sharp jolt of lust went through him. Harry gripped him tighter and seemed to mould against him until they became one heaving being, breathing heavy in Eggsy’s ear. Eggsy was able to gauge enough about Harry’s size to know he was about average, maybe a little longer.

It occurred to Eggsy quite plainly how in control Harry had been at the pub, how calm and poised he was. But here he was fighting against stuttered little thrusts and panting like he had just run a race. That fight hadn’t excited Harry, not like this did.

Eggsy moaned loudly as the stroking picked up again and this time he had a second cock to enjoy—the one sandwiched between his thighs. 

He couldn’t stop from arching out as Harry twisted and rotated his palm, apparently knowing exactly what he was doing. Eggsy made a valiant effort to clench his thighs together and push back, offer back the pleasure Harry was so willingly giving him. 

With little thought to things like his weight or Harry’s age or their somewhat dangerous surroundings Eggsy gave over his weight Harry. The illusion was broken. Harry was a storm hidden by a couple layers of well presented humanity.

And it was all Eggsy’s.

Harry was focused on Eggsy’s neck, on each mechanical tug to his cock, but it quickly wandered into erratic territory each second Eggsy squeezed around his cock. How long had it been for Harry?

Harry was vibrating against Eggsy’s back, a restrained need seeping out of him until he was sure to make bruises. The grip he had around Eggsy’s waist was one squeeze too tight, keeping Eggsy at his mercy as he ground forward, barely so, a sensual rub of their thighs and Harry’s groin against Eggsy’s arse.

His cockhead nudged past Eggsy’s balls over and over until they’d found themselves bent over slightly, Harry’s cock resting between the firm plush of Eggsy’s backside, snug and sandwiched as they pressed against each other. It wasn’t so much thrusting as it was elementary rubbing, just trying to get as close to one another as they could. The pleasure came mostly from the realisation of the act itself.

“F-fuck—H-Harry—I ain’t gunna—las’— _shit_!”

Harry moaned something back at him, pressing his forehead into the back of Eggsy’s head. He reached up suddenly with the arm around Eggsy’s waist and draped it over his chest instead so that his hand found purchase around Eggsy’s throat.

A dozen instances of what used to be fear and discomfort at being grabbed like that shot up inside Eggsy, but they broke when they hit a dry wall, falling away as he fell back into Harry with every bit of trust he had. 

It was wholly different from having Dean’s hand around his neck, from a stranger’s hand, from a metaphorical leash to keep him down. It didn’t feel oppressive, it didn’t feel choking, nor did it feel overwhelming.

It felt claiming and steadying and grounding. It felt so fucking right.

Eggsy jerked back, spluttering as he squeezed Harry’s wrist to the breaking point. Harry squeezed both his hands in response, and Eggsy came. 

His breath caught in his throat and he choked, hips lifting as Harry brought his fist down to the base repeatedly and ground between his cheeks with the last wanton gusto of a climaxing man.

Harry made a long sound into Eggsy’s back, tainted with muffled pleasure and desperation. Eggsy barely caught it over his own moaning as they came together, stiff and taunt and shaking against each other as the warm water splashed over them, removing the evidence as quickly as it came.

“Oh _God_ …” Eggsy gasped, rolling his head back on Harry’s shoulder as Harry continued to grind against him. Harry wrung the last few waves of ecstasy from Eggsy until it became blinding and Eggsy made a keening sound. He wriggled back against Harry, groin pulsing with the aftermath of his orgasm, skin tingling and flushing and pimpling all at once.

When Harry moved it was like Eggsy’s entire world shifted. Harry released his throat but he didn’t let go. Instead he reached further up to hold Eggsy’s chin as he pressed his forehead against Eggsy’s. It was sweet and intimate and sensual, a terrible deceiver for the words that spilled out of his mouth next.

“Such a good boy, Eggsy. My good boy...”

All Eggsy could reply with was a strangled sound and a fierce shudder that dislodged Harry from between his legs. Harry’s other hand was up now holding Eggsy’s stomach, his palm warm and firm and still not a threat even against the vulnerable expanse of Eggsy’s stomach. 

None of this was the threat Eggsy thought it’d be. It was all too good to be true, and he didn’t care. 

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE, TAKE IT, TAKE ALL THE FLUFF AND PORN. 
> 
> Also, I made a Kingsman crack video. I couldn’t find the kind I was looking for, most were in Russian or plain song parodies. So I made the kind I was looking for. I think it’s funny. I hope, rather. But it’s definitely cracky. 
> 
> If you’re curious and dare to tread on my nonexistent video editing skills, then here’s the link to: 
> 
>  [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNhavOaVOOs)
> 
> [tumblr](http://candyassgoth.tumblr.com/post/148915963558/so-like-i-made-a-thing-coz-i-couldnt-find-a)


	11. But I Can’t for The Truth Will Hurt Us Both

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than my usual chapters and it feels a little rushed im sorry. But it meant a quicker update so surprise??!?1? This is a kind of filler, I suppose, before story progression.
> 
> But omg this chapter i don’t even. Kind of a rollercoaster hold onto your knickers folks
> 
> Thank you to my readers, your words are bursts of inspiration to get a little better each time.
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

**Chapter 11: But I Can’t for The Truth Will Hurt Us Both**

 

Eggsy woke warm and bundled. He liked to wrap himself away when he slept, hiding away his soft spots, but for the most part it was simply comforting. Like being held by a pair of trustworthy arms.

He made a little nonsense sound as he roused, arms folded into his chest as he lay somewhat on his front, buried in the blankets. He wriggled his toes and arched, stretching his legs for a few seconds before going limp with another muffled sound. He spit out the fabric trying to enter his mouth and twisted a little so his face was freer, and moaned at the dull throb of pleasure that surfaced when he squirmed. It was more of a full-bodied effect, sourcing from his groin, but filled every inch of him in seconds.

The following jerk of his hips was instinctual. He ground forward, humming in content into the fabric. Pleasure flooded through his veins like an elixir, giving life just enough to repeat the process.

The third wave was heavier than the first two as his mind surfaced from The Land of Nod, his thrust a little stronger, his senses a littler clear. Then the bed moved beneath him, a single twitch, and suddenly the presence of another body besides his took form.

Eggsy cracked open his eyes, saw nothing but rolling blankets, but he could make out the imprint of a hand on the small of his back over the covers, the legs trapped beneath his own, and the warm expanse of what was probably a hip against his erection.

“...’arry?”

“Yes?”

“...Was I...?” 

“It’s a natural occurrence for a healthy man.”

Eggsy buried his face. “ _Harry_...”

Harry chuckled, and found Eggsy by patting down the covers so they could see each other from Eggsy’s burrow beneath Harry’s arm. 

“Sleep well?” he asked Eggsy, brushing his fingers over Eggsy’s cheek.

“Yeah.” Eggsy smiled, flesh heating at the touch (and the memories of last night, which were eager to reappear) and looked at the clock on the wall. It was already eight-thirty. He looked back at Harry with a squint. “You still in bed?”

“Mmh.”

Eggsy squinted a moment longer, charmed by the slanted but fulfilling view of Harry still ruffled and metaphorically naked from sleep. No suit or combed-hair or after-shaved face. Eggsy dropped his head and pushed his hand out of the warmth between their chests to drape it over Harry’s and squeeze him. He huddled closer too, smiling widely and dreamily and properly hooked his leg over Harry too, unabashed and feeling strangely mature about his morning erection as it pressed into Harry’s hip. 

“Let’s stay in bed aaaaall day... Merlin can bring food...” He wanted to stay right there forever, warm and comfortable and pressed against Harry, not a care in the world.

“It does sound quite tempting.”

“Mmh hmm...”

Harry chuckled again, and flicked Eggsy’s nose. “We have to get up though.”

Eggsy turned his face into his arm to hide beneath it.

“Nnh...no we don’...We’ll ge’ up later when we starvin’ to def...”

“Eggsy.”

“’ee’s no‘ere...”

Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he squeezed Eggsy. 

“Who is then?”

“Hnng...” 

“Eggsy...” Harry called, sighing nasally when a second squeeze failed to rouse the stubborn boy. 

“... _Sweetheart_?”

Eggsy giggled loudly in the silent room, as naked as Harry when he shuddered tellingly.

“Corazoncito.” Harry whispered, lifting his hand from Eggsy’s back to pet Eggsy’s hair. “Liefling.”

Eggsy snuggled roughly into Harry, grinning like a lunatic as his face simmered like a tended barbeque.

“Mausebär.”

“What language even is that...”

“A few.”

“Whadda they mean?”

“They mean,” Harry put his hand back around Eggsy’s back, “we’re scheduled to pick up the puppy in a half an hour’s time.”

Like a fear-struck solider Eggsy rolled out of bed and hit the floor with a high-pitched “ _Shit!_ ” and took most of the blankets with him.

 

On the way back to pound Eggsy had had the weirdest idea that they’d get there and his puppy of choice would be gone. His life usually worked out like that. Receiving the short end of the stick wasn’t uncommon to Eggsy, he was rather used to ending up with a shit deal even after playing his part. He, honestly, though only half (and secretly) expected them to be told someone else magically appeared after they left yesterday and swiped up the dog.

Thankfully that wasn’t the case. His pup was there, as tiny as he was yesterday, but Eggsy was surprised when he was slipped a piece of paper to sign.

“Congratulations on your pup.” Harry said.

“Thanks.” Eggsy smiled, hesitating a moment before signing where the man behind the counter pointed. He shrugged when Harry looked curious. “First thing I ever signed for. As mine, you know? Even before, things were never really _just mine_ , even when they were.”

Harry looked affronted as Eggsy slid the paper back across the counter.

“Well, that’s not quite true.”

Eggsy raised a brow. “What d’you mean?”

“Well, if judging by this wouldn’t you say I was the first thing you’ve ever signed to own?”

Eggsy went red head to toe. It was only by a miracle the man across the counter had gone to fetch his pup rather than stand and bear witness.

“...Yeah.” Eggsy straightened, suddenly back in their bedroom.

Harry didn’t help at all by leaning in.

“This is a two-way thing.”

“It is now.” Eggsy retorted, Harry’s hand back around his cock.

“It’s equal with or without _that_.” Harry said, charmingly pink in the cheeks as he leaned away. He cleared this throat. “Besides, despite what backwater traditions imply I rather think it’s the older partner who must assure his partner’s satisfaction. I’ve had enough in my lifetime, why _shouldn’t_ I give more than I take? At least until you’re spoilt rotten.”

Eggsy invaded Harry’s space with a smooth glide and smirked up at him. “What if I get too spoilt and become a little shite?”

“I’m sure I can think of some way to get through to you.”

Harry didn’t take the bait (or offer, however Harry wanted to see it), and the attendant came back with the pup in a small cage. Eggsy made space between them with a determination not to blush and turned to their new dog. 

The attendant came around into the waiting area and placed the cage down carefully before he opened the latch and lifted the little thing out. Eggsy took him immediately and cradled the pup to his chest, not unlike the many times he’d cradled Daisy.

“Hello boy. It’s all right. You’re coming home with us. No more cold floors or funky food. Only good times from here. All right? You’s gonna be all right. Say thank you to Harry.” He turned Harry’s way, beaming as he cuddled the whining pup. It felt like a huge cement slab had just solidified on the foundation of their relationship. _Things were happening._

“You’re very welcome, gentlemen.” Harry said kindly.

Eggsy smiled as genuinely as he knew how. _Harry got him a fucking puppy!_ “Thanks, Harry.”

_And if he had a quid for every time his body (face and heart included) lit up at the thought of their shower together…_

“I think getting him home will do him well.” Harry smiled at the pup. “What’s his name?”

“JB.”

“…Tell me you didn’t name him after that child pop star?”

“Who? No, Jack Bauer.”

“Oh. Hmm. Can’t say it doesn’t suit him. Come on then, JB, let’s get you home.”

 

Harry had a taxi drive them to and fro. Eggsy struggled just a little with JB, trying to comfort him as they got in the back. He tried to be as soothing as he could, thinking over his more successful his nights sitting up with Daisy for a guideline. Overall he felt he had a good knack for it. 

Eggsy placed JB on his lap and held him close, and within the minute the pup took solace in the corner of his left arm, hiding his little face from the bright world. Eggsy petted him in a way he hoped was comforting, grateful that the driver seemed to understand that putting pedal to the metal was a bad idea.

The drive home was slow and enjoyable, at least Eggsy thought so, but he could be bias what with his new baby bulldog and his sort of consummated happy marriage going on. Anything would probably seem all right at the moment. He was _happy_ , but it made him turn to Harry with pinched brows.

“You really never been married? But have you ever been close to it? Like lived with someone?” Harry had no family pictures in his house either. The house had _no_ pictures, as a matter of fact. It was either paintings of scenery or cases of dead butterflies. No ex-wives, no siblings, no parents, not even friends. Eggsy was almost sure Harry’s phone was just as bare.

Harry took a moment, but his answer wasn’t dubious, or regretful. “No.”

“Simple as that?”

“I’ve had my _flings_ but that’s all they were. Mutual ones, by the way. A gentleman never leads someone on.”

Eggsy smirked, watching the houses and flats go by. “I can only imagine the babes and gents you been with. Or do you have an actual thing for street folk like me?”

“A gentleman never speaks of his conquests.”

“Yeah, but, we’re married. You got a jealous husband now and he wants to know who he needs to glare at at all them fancy parties you promised we’d go to.” Eggsy was sure he heard the driver chuckle at that.

Harry might’ve heard it too. He smiled, exasperated, and looked at Eggsy, giving him a nudge on the knee. “Perhaps that is why it’s best I don’t share details. It’s not important. You’re important.”

“Does Kingsman give classes on wooing too?”

“Some things a man is just born with.”

Eggsy laughed, but he dropped the topic. He couldn’t imagine Harry stepping out on him, even if Harry somehow didn’t _want_ him want him—which was unlikely after last night. Harry felt like one of those men that would chose honour before disgrace, even against their desires. It made Eggsy feel embarrassed for how he felt that first day at gym when Harry spoke to those three blonde women, but it was _so_ good to be proven _so_ wrong. There had been no battle to face there, there never had been since the first day. Everything was finally coming together better than he could’ve ever hoped, let alone dreamed. Eggsy was a realist before he was an optimist.

Then Eggsy remembered.

“Hey, can you teach me how to fight? I know what I said but if you got actual training I’d kinda like to learn.” _And get his own umbrella, he should’ve known that thing was magical the first day they met_

“Sure. One day I won’t be around. You’ll need to look after yourself, your mum and Daisy.”

The thought punched a hole in Eggsy’s chest like nothing else. He filled it with a small chuckle and shook his head against the idea. “Nah, you’re gonna live forever.”

“A frightening sight that would make for.” Harry joked, but he caught Eggsy in a serious gaze against Eggsy’s best efforts. “As long as you have need of me, I’ll be here.” Harry said, giving Eggsy one of those business looks that he hadn’t in a while. It was softer today, less morbid, and it quickly crumbled away back into a casual smile. “We’ll have to invite Daisy over. She’ll want to meet JB.”

Eggsy started to smile, but it ebbed away before it could form.

“I dunno if mum would. I used to hint for a dog but I think she just didn’t wanna look after two babies. Then Dean came and I think she didn’t wanna bug him. He’d prolly be one’a them arseholes that kick their dogs for pissing on the floor... Guess she knew that too. Not that it helped her stopping him hitting _me_...” Eggsy stiffened the moment the words escaped, tongue thick and face hot. “Sorry...” he added, looking down at the still body in his lap.

Harry turned his face, but didn’t look straight at him. Eggsy appreciated the privacy. 

“Don’t apologise. You should talk about it. Bottling it up is honestly no good... I know it’s hard sometimes but in the long run it’s best. Things fester in dark places so rather bring them into the light.”

If they weren’t in the taxi maybe Eggsy would’ve. 

Or maybe he simply wouldn’t… 

“I want to. But sometimes... _somethings_...” Eggsy licked his lips and shook his head, looking out the window for the easiest answer. “He’s just a fucking prick. He likes hurting us. He likes hurting _me_. Now mum’s alone with him...” Eggsy swore under his breath at the thought.

“Would your mum say if there were still problems?”

“Nah. She’d keep it to herself, she didn’t like worrying me.”

“Like mother like son then.” Harry murmured, and Eggsy looked away awkwardly. Harry shrugged. “With the compensation for your loss Baker has no reason other than Neanderthal tendencies to create a disturbance. In fact, your mother should kick him out. The money is entirely hers, after all.”

Eggsy blinked at him like an owl. 

“…I never really thought of it like that. Fucking...Harry—” Eggsy sat forward in shock. At the time, in Kingsman, it was—it just—it was always—Dean ruled everything. That’s just the way it’d always been. It hadn’t even occurred as a path for them to get rid of Dean, not like it was now with Harry saying those words.

Holy fuck she _should_ kick him out and she could!

_But what then? Dean won’t disappear._

Eggsy sat back as the idea plummeted, realising immediately why it had never occurred to him before in the first place. 

“…No, he’ll never let it go. He’ll just follow her and he’s not above hitting her. She’ll never risk it.” And he didn’t quite blame her, especially now that she was alone. “He’ll never forget it. ‘Fact I’m pretty surprised we’re not being stalked by his mutts after yesterday...”

“They had no one to blame but themselves. If they disagree they are more than welcome to return for clarification.”

Eggsy managed a smile. “That’s a nice thought, but no. They could bring more guns next time. And you’re not dying because’a _them_. Over my dead body.”

“The feeling is mutual, then, my dear.”

“Hey,” Eggsy nudged Harry’s shoulder with his, chest filling with happiness at the ease of the casual gesture. “Thanks.”

Harry, surprisingly, lifted his arm and let Eggsy lean against him. He paid no mind to the driver, who seemed to be part of the equipment now, and pecked Eggsy on the forehead. “I’m sorry for the hardships of your life.” He said for Eggsy’s ears only.

“It’s all right. No one’s life is perfect. Right?”

“Right. Except maybe a cat’s.”

Eggsy giggled, and petted JB again. “Yeah. Cats got the best lives. But JB’s gonna have the bestest best life, ain’t ya?”

Harry craned his neck to glance around. “We never did go past the bakery, did we?”

Eggsy didn’t bother to look up as he smiled. “Can we get a whole cake?”

“We’ll get two. Your mum can take one home tomorrow.”

Eggsy exhaled softly, butterflies filling his belly until he had no room to breathe. He turned his face up, dreadfully close to Harry’s

“Are you tryna get me to fall in love with you?”

Harry took a long moment, face unreadable.

“Is it working?”

“…Yeah, it is.”

He never saw Harry's jaw tighten.

 

After a quick stop to the bakery they made it home well before lunch. Eggsy was more alive than he had ever been, feeling fulfilled and light and paternal and desirable all at once, to name a few that contributed towards the bright glow of _happiness_ emanating from him. He’d never related to a single word so much. Or at least, not a positive one.

Although he was buzzing, first on the agenda was JB. The moment they got out the taxi Harry suggested putting him down, and it was a good call. JB seemed to panic for a moment, seemingly lost, before squatting besides the front left wheel to pee. Food was next, and JB didn’t have a problem putting his trust in them when he tucked in. Eggsy tried not to crowd him, biting his bottom lip as he watched the pup eat like he’d never eaten before. Harry made a comment that it’d be good to get JB seen to by a vet, but Eggsy was too giddy to hear it and just nodded along. 

_He had a puppy! He was happily married with a husband! He had freedom! He had safety! He had a phone! He had a big bed! He had_ possibility!

He was starting to feel a future.

When the pup was fed and looking around with curiosity rather than fear, Eggsy took him out to pee again, and then upstairs to bed. He made a nest on the floor next to his side of the bed so it was tucked in between the wall, a nice dim place for JB to get some sleep without seeing too much. The pet bed was soft and probably more than enough, but Eggsy threw in a blanket and one of his older shirts anyway.

He sat with JB until it seemed like he’d fallen asleep, thumbing unseeingly at his phone. He needed to respond to Ryan’s last message about his girlfriend.

Eggsy crept out afterwards and went downstairs, hands in his pockets, heart on his sleeve.

In the kitchen Harry stood cutting the cakes into slices. He’d gotten two as promised, one chocolate, one cappuccino. They were both slathered in creamy icing, and Eggsy skipped forward hopefully. It was still before lunch, after all, and while Harry spoilt him, he did keep meals healthy and on schedule.

At the last minute, with a last minute nerve, Eggsy wrapped his arms around Harry from the back. He smiled into Harry’s back and inhaled, humming at Harry’s pleasant scent, and squeezed when Harry turned his head.

He didn’t loosen his hold until Harry put the cutlery down and turned to half-embrace him, one hand on the counter.

“Hey,” Eggsy said first, tugging so Harry was turned even more, and Eggsy could turn his face up the way he knew made him look, perhaps unnecessarily (and vainly), cute as fuck. “...What say you about you and me and a little game...?”

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched. 

“Suppose I should’ve known you wouldn’t be quite satisfied. As a young man.” He added.

Harry didn’t move to hold Eggsy tighter—or move at all, frankly—and Eggsy felt something odd slither between them. Being with Harry day and night for a month gave him a rather steady gauge of the man.

He tried to ignore it, but he let Harry go to stand on his own. He didn’t move very far, and nor did Harry. He still wasn’t moving at all.

“...Can I ask you a personal question?” Eggsy asked, successfully ignoring the voice telling him to zip the lip.

“All right.”

“When you say no, is it like a...an age thing? Medical? Besides wanting me to be ready ready. I’m not tryna be insensitive but if I understood better then I could help? Or work around it? But like—not that—I mean—fuck, it’s coming out wrong...”

“I _get_ you.” Harry said as he cupped Eggsy’s arm. He shrugged. “Yes, it’s an old man thing.”

Unlike many times before, there was no warmth passed in the contact. Eggsy’s resolve wavered but hardened all the same as he watched Harry hold up a mask. Eggsy both loved and hated that he could spot it, but he definitely hated its presence in this good day. They had just made huge fantastic progress, what was the fuss now? 

“Can I be perfectly honest and say I don’t believe that?”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because I thought I did. But you—you know you didn’t even break a sweat in the pub? You didn’t even lose your breath! But last night—”

“Fighting and fu—” Harry shut his mouth audibly before the word could tumble out, but he continued stonily a beat after. “They are two different things.”

“Wow. I don’t believe you.” Eggsy said, and he meant it. He didn’t know how, but after last night, he could just _tell_. 

Harry didn’t relent. He kept his mask up and stared until Eggsy accepted half-hearted defeat.

“Sorry…” Eggsy said after a long silence and took a step aside, glancing at the cake for the comfort he knew it could provide now that his built up happiness was threatening to chip away. He hadn’t intended for such an awkward moment to appear and he wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t disappointing, and perhaps it was visible on his face because Harry suddenly crowded him.

“Good Lord, boy.” Harry hissed, _hissed_ , as he seemed to grow an inch taller and two wider. He broke off a piece of the nearest slice of cake and held it up, jaw set like stone, eyes unreadable even without the glasses.

Eggsy stared bug-eyed, shoulders up and chin in. Harry moved the mound of chocolate closer to Eggsy’s mouth. 

“You said a little game, I believe?”

A tiny sound escaped Eggsy as his shoulders and stomach dropped, a frightening excitement taking their place to keep him up as he wrapped his mind around the filthy, _perfect_ idea. The surprise he felt could not be explained, not after their conversation, but he certainly wasn’t going to ask for one.

He parted his lips and tilted his chin. Harry closed the gap and fed him the cake, pressing his fingers into his mouth like they did it everyday.

The taste was marvellous and Eggsy hummed, but he moaned when his tongue brushed over the pads of Harry’s fingers. The contact was jarring. Both men seemed to twitch, the contact reaching both as if they were one organism. 

Eggsy never realised how sensitive his mouth was until it was full of Harry’s fingers, shooting sparks through the soft thin membranes in mouth and down his throat until he got goosebumps across his body. The only remedy was it keep going so he could acclimatize, and Eggsy moved the melting cake to the back of his tongue so he could lick off whatever icing coated Harry’s fingers. And then all too soon they were gone.

Eggsy swallowed immediately, cheeks and ears burning as he leaned back into the counter, head a little fuzzy and heart racing to the pace of a gallop. Harry followed him, definitely bigger than Eggsy thought he was, and suddenly there was a second offering of cake held up to him.

Eggsy reached out and closed his hand around Harry’s shirt, obliviously crinkling the fabric as he focused on the beautiful form of Harry’s hand, long fingered and regal, dipped in a delicious mess of chocolate. Eggsy wanted that hand to run down his body and spread the sweetness everywhere so he could beg Harry to lick it off him. 

The thought spurred him into action. He grabbed Harry’s wrist with his other hand and pulled, stuffing his fingers into his mouth with nothing short of brazen lust. His eyes closed, too heavy in light of the matter, but he tugged on Harry to communicate his need and suckled wetly around his fingers. It all went straight to his cock, rivulets of arousal shooting to his cock through his belly from his tongue down his throat. It felt like Harry was touching his cock just by touching his tongue. 

The next second there was a hand around the back of his neck. Eggsy cracked his eyes open and moaned; Harry was leaning into him like a man in want. His eyes were hooded, his mouth pressed into a firm line and the grip of his hand was strong, inescapable. He was breathing through his nose but it was already laboured, and Eggsy couldn’t help being eternally turned on by that. He held on tighter and parted his feet so Harry could lean in between his legs, carving away at the space between them like he had the cake.

When the second round of chocolate had been nursed away Harry reached for more, eyes darting a dozen ways a second. This time it was all icing, collected over his thumb and held up like The Apple to Eve in the clear knowledge of its workings, and yet with little will to refuse it.

Eggsy closed the gap this time and took Harry’s thumb into his mouth, willing and eager to show it. He closed his eyes and sucked, flicking and swiping his tongue about as the cream melted around the hard skin, sweet and delicious and adding to the rise of energy in his thrumming body. He paid special attention to the tip of Harry’s thumb, tasting and nibbling on the flesh in dedication and promise for grander things with a skill he’d mastered a year ago, a skill he was truly becoming ready to utilise.

The hand around the back of his neck tightened and Harry pressed his thumb in further. Eggsy almost choked, _almost_ , out of surprise more than the depth, and he made up for it by making slick bobbing movements, lips glistening and _god this could lead to the best blow job imaginable_.

His hand hadn’t even made it to Harry’s waistband when suddenly Harry tore away. Eggsy fell into the counter and scrambled for grip and understanding, while Harry stood a wide step away, eyes large and—now with the mask gone—haunted.

“Harry?” Eggsy rasped.

“...E-Excuse me.” Harry said, and then turned and fled.

“Harry? Harry? Harry wait—” 

But Harry was already gone, shutting the front door behind him.

Eggsy stopped in the dining room, hands up at his sides without direction or comprehension. His mouth was wet and cold, his gut hot and churning and his pants tight, but it all paled in comparison to the ugly way his heart was beating.

Whether from hope or despair Eggsy stood where he was for a while, but Harry didn’t return. Harry didn’t come back.

It was the very first time he’d run rather than face Eggsy and deal with it the way he always did. What had changed?

Eggsy wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand, but the second it was, the tears fell. His stomach was hollow and he felt sick, weak in the knees and suddenly claustrophobic. It felt like there were a million eyes on him and yet he knew he was alone. 

He turned back to the kitchen but stopped short. He didn’t want to see the cake let alone touch it. He wiped his mouth once more, grimacing when it unearthed buried recollections of spitting into gutters and nursing a sore jaw. He couldn’t recall how many times he’d wiped his mouth in disgust, but now he was doing it again. 

The connection, though wholly different, still left him staggering with unwanted nostalgia, no Harry here to chase it away. He wiped his tears and ran up stairs before Harry actually did come home. Come home to the failure he’d run from. Why else would he do that? Because Eggsy had done something wrong.

 _Harry’s room_ , the shaking part of his mind supplied as he rushed into the bedroom. He gave the bed a glance with downturned lips, wishing it offered the comfort he needed right now, but it didn’t. The bed was Harry’s, it smelt of Harry, it was styled like Harry and right now Harry was upset with him. Eggsy had reclaimed the short end of the stick like a champ. 

While half of Eggsy fretted and downright shouted at him to _get out go run take a long walk_ , the newer half of him dropped to his knees, and crawled into JB’s space. There were enough blankets and space for Eggsy to comfortably curl up around JB, shutting his eyes to stop the torrent of tears as the pup woke and sniffed his face.

The Newer Eggsy knew Harry was not _livid_ and would not suddenly burst in and yell at him for whatever he’d done, he knew it enough to feel right staying put, but he couldn’t help compromising by staying off the bed. That felt right too. A show of apology and offering of personal space. Eggsy had trespassed on Harry, it was the only thing he could think of; he knew it was a problem of his. He was greedy and just didn’t know when to quit.

Harry was right. The trouble he got himself into was usually well founded. But now he’d made trouble with the only person who was trying to help him because he was still, no matter what, a fucking rent boy.

 

Eggsy napped fitfully. He turned away from every chance to rouse, until he couldn’t ignore outside interference some time later.

“..sy...ggsy, wake up...Eggsy…”

The sound of Harry’s voice and the feel of soft tugging to Eggsy’s shoulder woke him up. Eggsy’s first thought was that it was a dream, but the squeezing around his arm was real and he sat up quickly. 

“’arry? Harry!”

“Eggsy, you shouldn’t sleep like that, you’ll hurt yourself.” Harry scolded as he helped Eggsy stumble up.

“You’re back.” Eggsy said, relieved, but as soon as he was on his feet, left cheek red from sleep, he pulled away and folded his arms into his stomach.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Eggsy—”

“I was wrong. I keep pushing you into it and I keep saying I won’t but I end up doing it anyway and it makes me no better than Dean!”

“Eggsy...” Harry blinked. He cupped Eggsy’s shoulders. “You are miles from that man.”

And here came the tears. Eggsy snorted miserably, half-heartedly shrugging off Harry’s hands.

“I’m not though, am I? What’ve I done in my life? What’ve I accomplished? What can I be proud of? And here you are giving me a second chance and I’m ruining it with my bullshit ways. I can’t be a fucking gentleman let alone a decent fucking person.”

“Eggsy, none of this is true. You’re too hard on yourself when you should be upset at me. You are allowed to be angry with me, Eggsy.” Harry pulled him out the corner and pushed him to sit on the bed. Eggsy sat, cheeks wet enough to drown Harry in regret. Harry sat next to him.

“Sometimes the best accomplishments in our lives are those we can’t share with others simply because they’re solely ours. Have you forgotten what I said? Being a gentleman isn’t about how we talk or walk or how many achievements we have on our belt. It’s about being a better you for yourself, not only for the world.” He paused for Eggsy to think on it, and then spoke a little slower. 

“A gentleman’s name should appear in the newspaper only three times: when he’s born, when he marries, and when he dies. And we are first and foremost gentleman.”

“That’s me fucked then.” Eggsy said. He shrugged. “Like that Charlie said, I’m just a pleb.” He shrugged again. “I keep fucking proving it too.” And pleb was the nicest word for him. Whore at worst. 

He wanted so badly to confess, but his throat closed off with a single look at Harry. Thankfully Harry didn’t seem to notice the confessions his eyes. 

“Nonsense. Being a gentleman has nothing to do with the circumstances of one’s birth. Being a gentleman is something one learns.”

Fresh tears spilt over, and Eggsy shrugged yet again, defeated. He’d upset Harry, and here Harry was back trying to comfort him rather than scold him.

“Yeah, but _how_?”

“...All right first lesson, I shouldn’t have walked out like I did.” Harry wormed his hand into the crook of Eggsy’s arm and held his hand, a brilliant bold and intimate move that rendered Eggsy speechless. “Can you forgive me?”

“Harry...Yeah, of course, it-it’s not—”

“The blame is mine. I should’ve made a better choice but I didn’t. Now I’ve made the person I swore to protect feel as though he were at fault. That is one of the least gentlemanly things a man is capable of. Second to leading one on...” Harry sighed to the side. Eggsy had never seen this kind of tune from him, it was almost scary.

“Despite my heritage you’ll find I am quite questionable at being a gentleman. Seems to be getting worse, in fact. I truly apologise.”

Eggsy grimaced his way into a smile and looked down to twiddle his fingers around Harry’s. “That’s because I’m rubbing off onto you...”

Harry wiped the tears off Eggsy’s cheeks, honing the face of a man taking responsibility, but unable to hide the near transparent layer of woe. 

“No. It’s because I am fighting things that maybe I shouldn’t.”

Eggsy fought to keep from crying again. He wanted to apologise again, explain himself in all honestly so Harry could maybe _work around **him**_ , but he couldn’t get the words out. He was just so relieved Harry was home and talking to him. 

A part of him agreed, he ought to be upset that Harry just walked out, but again, Harry had more than communicated his views on the whole matter. He’d given and Eggsy had been greedy and wanted more, _again_. What was wrong with him? Eggsy would’ve freaked out for sure if it were the other way around. And yet Harry was willing to understand and accept him even without knowing his story...

“...One day I will explain. But for now just know you aren’t to blame. You’ve grown so much, I want you to know that.” Harry said, squeezing Eggsy’s hand as he looked at him in earnest, willing Eggsy to understand.

Eggsy didn’t, not really, but neither did Harry, so Eggsy kept his lips closed and nodded all the same, tired and ashamed and longing for Harry’s bed.

“...All righ’. ‘m still sorry…”

“Hush now. No more apologies. If you’re guilty then so am I. More so if anything. I’m supposed to be the mature sensible one.”

Eggsy cracked another smile, wider so when Harry smiled too, albeit guiltily. 

“So...what can we do to fix this?” Eggsy asked, wiping away his tears along with his evaporating confessions.

“Second lesson... How to make a proper martini.”

“ _Yes, Harry_!”

 

*** 

 

Merlin didn’t have to turn to spot Harry coming in. Though silent he cast a reflection on the black screen in front of Merlin, more so due to the lack of a jacket over his white dress shirt. Merlin put down his phone, cocked a brow, and swivelled around in his chair. It looked like Harry had dropped everything to run in here as if he forgot he _wasn’t_ supposed to be here.

“Harry. Do I have to remind you what a holiday is?”

“You wouldn’t have to if I was actually on one.” Harry retorted, and then sighed and shook his head as he took the seat besides Merlin. “Not like that. I’m not complaining, but unforeseen complications are rapidly stacking against me.”

Merlin widened his eyes. “Complications the great Galahad can’t handle? It’s going to snow.”

Harry ignored him. “It’s become personal.”

“It’s always been personal.”

“Well, _too_ personal then.”

Merlin glanced at Harry’s ruffled appearance. 

“Is he all right?”

Harry looked too, sighing at his right hand like it’d done him a great trouble. “He’s fine. He’s at home with the dog.”

“When did that happen?”

“Today.”

“Seems like a good day then.”

“... _Too_ good.”

“...Mutually?”

Harry sighed for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Unfortunately, yes. If it were simply my own dalliances I could handle it, but he...” Harry ran a hand over his face, skin warm with the embarrassing urge to blush, but also with a list of other disgruntling emotions. 

“…I’ve over stepped a large boundary and lost control of the situation. I’ve made a mistake, Merlin.”

“He didn’t seem troubled. Boy was blushing and fidgeting and defending you like—” Merlin stopped short as it clicked. Harry nodded, eyes on the wall. 

“…I guess that is a bit of a complication.” Merlin conceded. “He’s young, Harry. Young people are driven by fancies. Urge him out more, he’ll meet others.”

“I’m afraid he’s a bit loyal, and I’m a bit...” Harry looked away with the stubborn, pointed-nosed, I-can’t-hear-you expression that drove Merlin mad whenever trying to talk sense into him, especially during work-related endeavours. But this wasn’t the usual. This was Eggsy Unwin.

Merlin raised a brow that of a school teacher, and made sure Harry felt every bit of it. “There’s only a problem if you make one.”

“You try being in my place.” Harry snapped, but he quickly redacted it and rubbed at his forehead. “I’m sorry, this is my fault. I didn’t handle matters very well. I saw a different scenario in my head. Turns out he’s full of surprises.”

Merlin sighed too, and looked away. After a moment of fingering his phone he shrugged. “...If it’s not a problem for Eggsy…”

“I came here for you to be my common sense. Not my enabler.”

“He’s not Lee.”

Harry paused. 

“I know that.”

“Nor is it an improbable development.”

“I suppose.”

Merlin paused.

“Stopping whatever you’ve started will hurt him.”

“But would it be worse than continuing?”

“That, my friend, is between you and Mr. Unwin.”

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said here and there that I had no idea when I’d do a Harry POV (or Merlin?) but this felt right to add in. At the same time it doesn’t quite reveal too much (kinda...) but makes you think soooo I thought what the heck. Chapter wouldn’t seem very complete with a chunk of Harry-time missing anyway. It looks like both our boys are hiding stuff from each other, bad way to start off a marriage innit.
> 
> Also hush children don’t panic Harry’s feelings are genuine, otherwise he wouldn’t have run off to Merlin. The real questions are _why why and why._


	12. Mock the Hand that Fed Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU Daisy is somewhere around the age she was after Eggsy failed the last test for joining Kingsman, so she isn’t a baby-baby. Can’t remember if I mentioned that earlier, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who takes a moment to comment and encourage. I don’t mean to lag with updates but I’m in a bit of a depression and my brain chemicals are far off the norm. So whatever magic happens in there when writing isn’t quite happening atm, but I’m getting a lot better now <3
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

** Chapter 12: Mock the Hand that Fed Him **

 

The rest of the afternoon was only half as bleak as the beginning. It started to rain at some point, and Harry put a thick stew on the stove to cook for dinner, idling on and off the phone with who Eggsy assumed was Merlin. Harry truly didn’t seem to have many other friends and Eggsy might’ve heard the name around other short sentences he couldn’t connect to any kind of context. 

He tried not to eavesdrop as he dawdled around the house. JB was sleeping and Eggsy didn’t feel like watching or reading anything, so eventually he ended upstairs dialling his mother.

Michelle answered on the fifth ring, ceramic clinking and keys jingling around the common sounds of someone shuffling about. She probably didn’t even check the caller ID. Eggsy grinned anyway. 

“Hey, mum.”

“ _Oh, hey, baby. Sorry, I meant to call you but I had your sister and Dean, and that bloody bitch next door. Sorry, baby. How are you? You all right?_ ”

“It’s all right. Yeah, I’m good. It’s good I called then. I wanted to invite you over tomorrow. We bought cake, and—”

“ _Oh, I—I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it._ ”

Eggsy’s smile dropped a little and he took proper note of her tone. She was still fussing about on the other end. Perhaps she just got back from the store, or maybe she was in the middle of cleaning. He couldn’t hear anyone else there with her, so he tentatively put his worries on hold. Last thing he wanted was Dean to grab the phone and bark at him, and then her.

“Oh. Everything okay?”

“ _Yeah, everything’s fine!_ ” She gave a little laugh at the end, but it hiked his worry rather than placate it.

He frowned and tapped his shoe against the wall. “...It’s just we bought cake and I have something to show Daisy. I should’ve given you notice, but it was actually a surprise for me too.”

“ _Daisy misses you something terrible. Cried for a week when she realised you were gone for good. Absolutely gutted. Mummy wasn’t very popular..._ ”

“I miss her too.” Eggsy said, and smiled at the fading memory of what it was like to hold his sister. He really did miss her in the moments he was alone and unoccupied. He worried about her too, and he was worrying more now by the way his mum didn’t seem quite interested in talking. That could only mean she was having trouble, and usually Dean was that trouble.

Eggsy chewed his lip. “…Why don’t Daisy just come then? She’ll be all right with us.”

He could almost hear his mum drop everything to pay attention, and he tried not to be offended.

“ _Oh? You’ll be okay?_ ”

“Yeah... We can take her for the day. You can have a day off, do whatever you need to.” He nodded to himself, and listened to the muffled background sounds of hooting cars and people yelling across corridors. 

He frowned again at the continued silence. 

“...Mum?”

“ _I hate to ask you this, baby, but do you think you could take her for a few days?_ ”

Eggsy pushed off the wall. “Mum, what’s wrong? Is it Dean?”

“ _No, no, everything’s fine. I’m just a bit busy, and she wants to see you. If Mr. Hart wouldn’t like it that then it’s all right—_ ”

“No, we’ll take her. But mum—”

“ _Thanks, babe._ ”

“Mum—” 

JB cut him off by scuttling over and barking excitedly. It must’ve taken him a good while to climb back up the stairs after they’d carried him down earlier. Eggsy crouched to rub his head.

“ _Is that a dog?_ ”

“Yeah, the surprise.”

Michelle started crying loudly.

Eggsy fell on his backside. “Mum? Mum, please fucking talk to me!”

“ _I’m all right, I’m just glad!_ ” she sobbed, “ _You’ve always wanted a dog. I’m just so happy you finally got one._ ”

And here returned Eggsy’s tears, and his suspicions confirmed. He pressed his lips together as they welled, knocking his head back against the wall to the bedroom. JB snuffled around his shoes, curious and unaware of the ugly feelings making his master scrub at his face.

“...It’s all right, mum...”

She sniffled loudly. “ _What time must Daisy be ready?_ ”

“Ten all right? I’ll come pick her up—”

“ _No! You don’t need to do that. I’ll send her with Ryan. Or Jamal. Why don’t they come fetch her and meet you somewhere? Get an ice cream with your friends and Daisy._ ”

Eggsy dropped his hand and glared at his knees. 

“Mum, what’s wrong?”

“ _Eggsy, I’m_ fine. _I gotta go_.”

“Fuck, mum, _please_.”

“ _Eggsy, language. I love you._ ”

“...Love you too.”

She didn’t give him much of a chance to grill her. She hung up and left him with a dozen questions rearing their ugly heads, and a dozen more worries. So much for asking her to leave Dean. The last time she’d been brave enough to stand up to him was over the brand of a toaster they’d gone out and actually _bought_ for Christmas. Dean only relented because she was the cook and knew what was better. But with whatever was upsetting her now she was probably kneeling at his bloody feet. _Dean_ was the problem, what else could it be? It wasn’t Daisy or the fucking neighbour. It was Dean. It was always Dean.

Eggsy sighed, and, not for the first time in a moment of weakness, wished his dad was still alive. Everything would’ve been different and better. The only catch was that he wouldn’t have met Harry…

Eggsy washed his face of his tears, and sat on the bed to thumb through his phone to find Ryan’s last message. He replied with bland enthusiasm for Ryan’s latest girlfriend, and asked Ryan to do him the favour of picking up Daisy, and scrutinize his mum in the process. It was only barely keeping him from running out to check up on her on his own. But after what Harry did to Rottie and the pack, Eggsy wouldn’t be a welcomed face. _Muggsy_.

Fuck, what if that was why she was upset? Had Dean punished her for it...? 

...No, he wouldn’t risk it, would he? Merlin had made it clear that the money was Michelle’s. If she was pushed to it she _could_ go to the police, or back to Kingsman, to keep Dean away from the money that was rightfully hers. 

And after what Poodle and Rottie had done in the pub, Harry—as an upstanding witness—could get Dean into serious trouble. No, Dean wouldn’t risk it…

Ryan replied quickly enough, agreeing and saying he’d bring Jamal along so they could see each other. Eggsy looked forward to that, he missed hanging around with them, and he might be starting to feel guilty for not making more of an effort to see them. But he was positive they’d end up stalling exactly like he was if they were him—Harry was unusually addictive. 

For the rest of the evening Eggsy let Harry distract him. From a plateful of delicious stew, to making martinis and inside jokes between Harry and Merlin, Harry chased away Eggsy’s demons like he always did. 

He was also noticeably _touchier_. Not perversely, mind you, far from it. But every chance he got Harry petted the back of Eggsy’s head, patted his arm, or squeezed his shoulder. He sported this guilty, unsure smile, that while it comforted Eggsy, it also made him feel guilty and unsure in return—he’d done this to Harry.

But Harry pointedly tried his best to keep things natural as the evening became night. They’d resolved their little misunderstanding—or as much as Eggsy’s past allowed—and they ended their day off comfortably. There were unspoken words on Harry’s lips but Eggsy was not about to ask, he didn’t _want_ to either. He’d been forward enough. And while it was endearing that Harry seemed to be trying to _stop_ him feeling like that, it just made Eggsy determined to stop being a slag. He should’ve just been happy with what Harry had given him, and this time he would be. The next move was Harry’s.

That night after they’d pulled on pyjamas and pulled off the weight of the day, Eggsy sat on his side on the bed and smiled.

“Harry?”

Harry was at the foot of the bed, fiddling absentmindedly with a sleeve. He stopped and gave Eggsy his attention, both eyes and both ears. “Yes, Eggsy?”

Eggsy shrugged. “Thanks.”

“…Thank _you_.” Harry returned the smile. His eyes darted away for a moment, mouth open, and then he came around and climbed into bed. Eggsy shifted to face him, knees up to his chest as he waited for Harry to continue.

“…I just became a bit overwhelmed.” Harry said. “I feared I would hurt you. For the second I didn’t trust myself. I thought leaving was best.”

It was a slightly more revealing answer than earlier. Eggsy smiled wider. 

“So you was still thinking’a me. Y’know, you’re too good for this world.”

Harry chuckled. “No one is, my dear. Except maybe the pup. He looks all right.”

Eggsy nodded, sparing JB a glance before his eyes landed back on Harry. “I think he is. I know I am.”

“As am I.” Harry smiled, settling against the headboard. He lifted his arm. “Come here.”

Eggsy hesitated twice. He cursed the hot urge of eagerness that rushed through him, but obeyed on the third try, albeit a little stiffly. His cheeks flamed as he tried not to dive right in, wriggling over and slotting himself against Harry’s chest. He swallowed hard when Harry wrapped his arm around him and held him to his body, and they lay for a long while in the calming dim light of the small, secure room.

They breathed methodically until they fell in sync, the slight lingering tension in the air slowly fading until Eggsy was limp with his arm strapped over Harry’s chest. He was tried from crying and stressing, and lying against Harry seemed to make it all irrelevant. His mind wandered to newer, happier places as he sunk deeper into Harry’s embrace. If he was a cat he was sure he’d be purring to the predictable rhythm of Harry’s hand on his back.

“…How much didja umbrella cost?” he asked, voice thick and muffled.

“My umbrella?” Harry asked, much in the same state.

“Yeah. Is cool as fuck, ya know...”

“I don’t think it’ll quite blend with your attire.”

“Y’just wanna be cool all by yourself.”

“Can you blame an old man for trying?”

“Nonono…Y’can’t pull that old man stuff w’me. I know you’s a bloody knight...”

“At your service...”

 

Eggsy woke up early the next morning, almost beating Harry to it. He and Harry attended gym an hour and a half earlier than usual so they could get home in time for Eggsy to pick up Daisy.

Eggsy had hesitated only for a second when asking Harry if he was all right with Daisy spending a few days. Eggsy couldn’t have said _no_ to his mother, and he hadn’t wanted to, and he had doubted Harry would’ve gotten upset, so he took his chances. Thankfully Harry was only curious and agreed without making a big deal out of it. Eggsy made sure to be extra good at gym, snubbing the few glances he still received and followed Harry around much like a puppy, twiddling their fingers when they walked to the showers—and he still hadn’t gotten one poke in there. Harry always slid in his stall alone and gave Eggsy a cheeky smirk as Eggsy got in the next one.

 _Like a puppy_ —which he still couldn’t believe—who they left napping in the room. Eggsy had fed and taken JB out to do his business before even getting dressed, grinning like a loon as he chased after his puppy. JB was perfect. He was friendly and trusting and loved to be cuddled. Eggsy had expected a little more bite out of him, but he didn’t really mind.

Ryan and Jamal both agreed to fetch Daisy for him and meet him by their childhood park. It wasn’t a very nice one, rusted and creaky and frequented now by junkie teens. Eggsy wondered if there were better ones in Harry’s side of town, he hadn’t checked.

“ _He doesn’t leave the vehicle if it’s not his friends._ ” Harry had decreed fiercely to the taxi driver when he arrived, and Eggsy almost felt bad for the bloke. Eggsy blushed as Harry gave his instructions—the man was one excuse from coming along—and then off they went at five to ten.

Luckily, it was only Ryan and Jamal waiting for them. Daisy was in Jamal’s arms, and Daisy’s bag in Ryan’s.

“It’s just them.” Eggsy said to the driver as he rushed out, a bright smile taking over his face as he reached for his sister. 

“There’s my girl! God, I missed you, sweetheart!” 

Jamal handed her over like a scared explorer handing a bear cub to its mother, and Eggsy crushed her against his chest. She was confused for a moment, but when she got a look at his face she lit up too and screeched her returned love. Eggsy kissed all over her face, rubbing his nose against hers and downright cooing a month’s worth at her until they were both covered in Daisy’s drool.

When he was done he smiled at his pals, wiping his cheeks of her wet kisses. Both Ryan and Jamal had smirks on their faces, and Eggsy soaked in the feeling of familiarity. Like a smitten mother he could tickle and smooch and throw Daisy around without either of them blinking an eye, but Lord help him if he went overboard around Dean and them. 

_You gonna confuse her, you idiot. Men ain’t supposed to do all that kissy shit._

Yeah, well, they’ll see who had the last laugh when Daisy grew up and chose Eggsy over Dean.

Eggsy could’ve gone on for a while now that Daisy was giggling up a storm, but he also couldn’t quite forget what else his friends had brought him. He felt bad for asking right away, but he trusted they’d understand.

“Sup, fellas. So, didja see anything?”

Ryan and Jamal looked at each other. Ryan shrugged and half winced. 

“Not really, bruv. She looked all right.”

“Did she say anything? Did she have extra make up on? Hair in her face? C’mon.”

“She looked all right. Just eager to get going. You want us to follow her a bit?” Jamal asked.

Eggsy sighed. 

“Nah, don’t draw attention.” He adjusted Daisy’s dress; it was one he and Harry had bought for her. He smiled, and decided he’d buy her a few more before she went back home.

“So, how’s it going? With you? And him?” Ryan asked, handing over Daisy’s bag.

Eggsy took it, and he was grateful he was ready smiling like a loon when he answered.

“Better than I could’a hoped. He’s a decent bloke for real. So yeah, _hunky-dory_. Got a D-O-G now, gonna surprise Daisy.”

“Awesome!” Ryan knocked him on the arm. “What kind?”

“A bull D-O-G.” Eggsy said with a grin. He revelled in the congratulations and being able to share his happiness with people who would understand what it meant to him. And without getting upset. Or jealous. He loved his friends so much. 

“How long she staying?” Jamal asked, giving Daisy a poke so she could laugh again, kicking her little legs.

Eggsy deflated a little and bounced her. “I dunno. Ain’t gunna complain though. Thanks for picking her up.” He kissed Daisy again—she needed a bath—and then gave his friends a serious look. 

“Look, stay away from Rottie and the gang. Just in case. All right? They’re still pissed.” 

He _so_ badly wanted to tell them what Harry had done, but they’d ask a million questions, half which Eggsy would probably still be as lost to. And to be honest, it was starting to worry him. What had Dean thought about that? Eggsy didn’t want to be alone on this side of town a minute out more than he had to. He didn’t put it past Dean to find him, grab Daisy from him and let his thugs beat him while she cried. God, when did he get so depended on Harry?

Ryan nodded, frowning a little, but didn’t ask any questions. “All right, all right. Need anything else, bruv?”

“Nah, its good, thanks.”

Jamal pushed Ryan aside. “How’s Miss Roxy?”

Eggsy laughed and waved an arm. “Get out of here!” 

The pair laughed, and Daisy screeched with them.

“All right, bruv, we’ll be off. Got a double date in an hour.” Ryan winked, crinkling the whole right side of his face. Jamal rolled his eyes and Eggsy laughed, missing _that_ too. 

They’d done triple dates before, spontaneous outings for fun rather than anything even near serious, and Ryan always tended to horde the best girls. He’d be the charming playboy, Jamal would be the mysterious romantic, and Eggsy would be the adorable joker. It was an intimidating circle for the ladies, if Eggsy thought so himself. Their joined game was strong, and he did miss the thrill of making girls giggle and blush left, right and centre. 

He wasn’t vain enough to think Ryan and Jamal did worse without him, but he couldn’t even boast about having picked up the best catch possible. The dynamic was entirely different with Harry, and he wasn’t ready to tell them about it. Maybe it was why he wasn’t in a rush to hang out, how does he explain without making them all blush and fidget that Harry made him want to straddle him and ride until he broke furniture? It would be less embarrassing saying that if a girl was involved, it would even be okay if it was a guy their age. But _Harry_? Yeah, that was too kinky at the moment. Eggsy would leave it to their imaginations for now. …Much like his own.

“Don’t forget to use condoms! I’ll see you guys. Cheers!” he called as they parted ways. He didn’t dare promise to plan a day with them, he still had a lot of internal sorting to do. And right now, he had an angel in his arms to see to.

 

Eggsy thanked the driver when they reached home. He beamed when the driver leaned out of the window to shake Daisy’s hand, telling him how pretty she was. She hid her face in Eggsy’s jacket but allowed it, and they chuckled.

Eggsy juggled his handful, she felt heavier than last time (which was great), and pulled out his keys to open the door. He got in without tripping, and skipped into the living room where Harry was probably waiting with snacks.

“Harry? Harry, I’m back. And guess who wants to—” 

He swallowed the rest and came to an awkward halt when he saw that Harry wasn’t alone. It wasn’t Merlin there either, but an elderly gentleman. It took a few seconds to recall where Eggsy had seen him before. 

“…Oh. Uh, hi.”

“Eggsy. Do you remember Arthur?” Harry asked. 

Eggsy frowned at the exaggerated way Harry sat, legs crossed, back straight and glass to his pursed lips. He hadn’t been so formal since their first few days together.

“Yeah, hi.” Eggsy nodded and offered a smile. He wasn’t too surprised when he didn’t receive one in return, just a blank look. He gestured upstairs awkwardly. “...I’m just gonna settle Daisy. ‘Scuse me.”

He didn’t wait for permission and hurried out. There was just something about that old man’s stare that made him uneasy, besides the obvious _I’m-rich-you’re-poor_ thing. Eggsy couldn’t give a damn about that anymore, and not because he was married off to a rich man. Still, he was glad Harry didn’t make him stick around.

JB was in his bed biting a squeaking bird toy. He came alive at the sight of them, and Eggsy plopped himself on the floor in the space between the wall and the bed. JB hesitated only for a moment before padding forward to greet them.

“This is JB.” Eggsy said, adjusting Daisy in his lap as he held out his hand to reassure JB. The pup whined and snuffled his hand, and then came to sniff her feet. She squealed in surprise and drew them back, pointing and mumbling nonsense to warn Eggsy but the funny thing trying to touch them.

“It’s a dog, yeah. A puppy. He’s only a baby. Like you. You must make friends. You guys are gonna grow up together. Kinda.”

Daisy took to JB quicker than she did the driver, and Eggsy guided her so she didn’t pet him too hard. JB was much smaller than her and still nervous, constantly smelling his surroundings and dipping his head for a comforting rub. It comforted Eggsy too.

Every few moments Eggsy found himself hugging Daisy. 

He didn’t know why his mum didn’t want to come over, or why Daisy would be staying for a few days, but he would definitely not complain. He kissed her over and over and relished her giggles. His heart clenched when she shifted stubbornly to look at him, lifting her little hands to paw at this face like it was the first time she was seeing it. He shared the sentiment and squeezed her cheeks, tickling her tummy and reminding her how much he loved her. Lord, did he love this child; he couldn’t imagine parting with her again.

They spent nearly an hour upstairs, partly because Eggsy kept listening for voices and hoping they’d decrease to one. But both remained, and Eggsy decided he was being silly for hiding. Daisy sealed the deal by wetting her nappy. The toilet downstairs had a good counter top to work on, and he didn’t want to get pee where Harry brushed his teeth, so he grabbed a fresh nappy and took her downstairs. JB stopped by the doorway of the room, and watched them disappear.

On the way he rolled his eyes at himself for being as quiet as he was, and it was impossible to decipher whatever Harry and Arthur were talking about. He heard only a few boring words before shutting the toilet door. 

Daisy gave him a bit of a struggle, far more interested in the framed butterflies than having her bottom cleaned. Luckily Eggsy hadn’t forgotten how change a wriggling child, and got through it without toppling or messing anything, including Daisy. She seemed highly amused by the time he was finished, fingers in her mouth and a sparkle in her eyes that he hadn’t seen for a good few months, even before he left. It made him feel as high as a kite. 

When they came out he wandered into the living room with his jaw set. This was his home too now, and he wasn’t going to let some snob chase him from it. 

When he walked in Harry was standing in the middle of the room, on his phone and talking softly. He looked up when Eggsy came in, and reached over to touch his arm. The reassurance was appreciated, and Eggsy sat himself down with Daisy. As far from Arthur as possible.

And then Harry walked out, grumbling at the person on the other side. Eggsy caught the look Harry gave him before exiting, and he tried not to let the hovering unease get him.

“…Sweet child.” Arthur said after a moment, making Eggsy jump. “When did you have her?”

And there went any chance of Eggsy liking this man. He let his annoyance show, face pinching, but he tried his best not to shout. 

“She’s my sister.”

Arthur chuckled. 

“Ah. I thought you looked alike but you can never tell. Young people today have children as soon as they can. It’s not as taboo as it was in my day. Children having children. But it’s always been a habit of the working class.” He smiled a nasty smile, or it looked nasty to Eggsy. Harry never smiled at him like that, like he knew something damning that Eggsy didn’t.

“But you’re not part of that demographic anymore, are you? How is life with Harry?”

Eggsy breathed through his nose and released it slowly. He thought of Harry, Harry who might understand, but not appreciate Eggsy taking off at his friends. Though Eggsy didn’t know why he was friends with this man, Merlin was way better.

“...It’s good, thank you. Harry’s great.”

JB came running in, barking excitedly as if to say he made it down the stairs all on his own. Eggsy reached and called for him softly, giving him a little shake. Daisy fidgeted in his lap, trying to lean over too.

“Pretty dog. What’s his name?” Arthur asked.

“JB.”

“James Bond?”

“No.”

“Jason Borne?”

“No... Jack Bauer?”

“Oh! Bravo.” Arthur smiled again, less nasty, more thoughtful. It didn’t lesson the discomfort of his next words. 

“Harry’s always been fond of small dogs, and boys.”

Eggsy stared at Arthur, wanting badly to get up and walk out, but stuck in a sort of horrified trance. His heart was beating fast and there was a sick, cold feeling building in his stomach as the seconds ticked by. Arthur wasn’t finished either.

“As much as it pains me to admit I can’t say the same for his taste in class. You’re not the first alley cat he’s picked up. At least he didn’t have to fork out for the dog.”

Eggsy flinched back. He tightened his hold on Daisy to protect her as much as himself from his man. Why was he saying these things? What had Eggsy ever done to warrant these—these—? This bastard didn’t know him, who was he to judge? What did Arthur mean that he wasn’t the first alley cat? Of course he wasn’t, it was Harry’s job to find _alley cats_. But somehow, it didn’t seem like that was what Arthur meant.

Eggsy looked away first. Despite all the angry voices in his head he shrunk and looked away, trying to turn off his feelings instead. 

Harry reappeared before Eggsy could crack and rush out. He had his phone in his hand and looked vaguely disgruntled.

“Sorry about that. Arthur, will you be staying for lunch or is that your taxi I hear?”

Eggsy didn’t look up but he did tune his ears. There was no taxi.

“...Must be my taxi.” Arthur relented with a sour smile. He got up and nodded. “Have a lovely evening.”

“You too.” Harry said with false cheer. He walked him out, and Eggsy relaxed back into the couch when he heard the door shut.

Harry came back in with a sigh. He frowned. 

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m... who is he?”

“My boss. He runs Kingsman.”

“Shit. He’s...”

“A decrepit old fart. I am getting far too old to take his nonsense. I was too old ten years ago.”

Eggsy thanked this common sense for holding his tongue—he couldn’t imagine costing Harry his job. 

“Why’d he visit?”

Harry sat down next to him, and smiled at Daisy. She shied away from him, fingers in her mouth.

“To remind me that I am very much expected to attend Kingsman’s annual soirée. A prestigious gentleman from America is hosting it this year and we’re to make sure his funds do not go to waste. I didn’t think I’d have to seeing as I’m on leave, but I _did_ promise to take you to a suited event.”

Eggsy lit up. “Holy shit! Like an actual ball? With people all dressed up drinking champagne and people playing violins?”

“Yes, something like that. It’s a sort of private gathering for our members to enjoy themselves and mingle. We realised a while back it was one of the best ways to help the men we marry off find people to relate to. There will be dozens of other young men there to make friends with. And for the first time, thanks to our American friend, there will be a few ladies attending. He runs a similar establishment but they deal with heterosexual couples, and a handful of couples will be flying in. So this year’s ball should be quite interesting.”

“When is it?”

“Two weeks from now.”

“I learnt to dance just in time then.” Eggsy grinned. He chewed his lip as he thought on it. 

“…There’s only guys like me there, right? Those married off, I mean. I don’t wanna start off a conversation with some chav and realise he was born rich and then married rich.”

“No, that’s exactly why you’ll find it relatable. You’ll have a background and a present in common.”

Eggsy nodded, already imagining it. He’d be all right if there were others like him, even if surrounded by snobs. And if there would be some ladies he’d definitely be popular, he was good at small talk and flirting. As for all the snobs, he’d picked up enough from Harry to put on an accent and outwit them out of their socks.

“Do I _have_ to mingle though? I can’t just hang off your arm looking pretty?”

Harry chuckled. “After ten minutes of tedious greetings you won’t want to. It’ll be far more entertaining running around with the other grooms stealing champagne off unsuspecting gentleman and clearing the buffet table.”

“Free food, all you had to say. Will Merlin be there?” 

Would Arthur be there? No, it didn’t matter if he would, Eggsy would pretend he doesn’t exist, it was no good brooding. He’d do like with Dean and stay out of their way, pretending they were just a bad smell.

“Unless he breaks anything short of his neck we’ll definitely see him there, he’s great at handling the routine. You’ll love it too, every year he gets at least a dozen questions asking if he’s married yet. The look on his face is priceless.”

“Guess he’s just waiting for the right person.”

“Or death, he doesn’t seem particularly fussed. And neither was I.”

“Yeah, the lack of pictures kinda gives it away.” Unless dead butterflies _were_ Harry’s family. 

Harry sighed through his nose. Daisy was more interested in him now, perhaps remembering all the milkshake Harry gave her the last time she visited. She allowed Harry take her pink hand in his. Her hand was dwarfed in his bronzed long-fingered one like they were two different species. 

“Loving something _will_ result in heart ache. It’s not something I needed unless it found its way to me. But I admit I didn’t give it much opportunity. Mr. Pickles was quite enough.” Harry said as he gently shook her hand. He was looking at Daisy, but his eyes were far away.

Eggsy wondered what he was thinking off.

_Other alley cats?_

Eggsy shook his head and shrugged.

“Love is good while it lasts, at least.”

“Yes, but some people can’t handle losing it. They’d rather never have had it in the first place.”

“Guess there _is_ something to be said about loving something _too_ much.”

“There certainly is. Now, how is this young lady?”

Eggsy looked down at Daisy as she patted Harry’s palm with her own, apparently feeling very brave now.

“She’s all right. Been missing me I hear.”

Harry tilted his head and looked at Eggsy. 

“You look troubled.”

Eggsy quickly shook his head. “Nah, just… mum, I guess. She didn’t wanna see me. Sent Daisy off with Ryan and Jamal to meet me.”

“You didn’t mention that yesterday?”

“She’s not angry. ...I don’t think... But I think she’s hiding something. Like with Dean.” He pulled a face at the idea, and brushed Daisy’s hair from her face. “Daisy looks all right though.”

“How long is she staying?”

Eggsy cringed and looked at Harry. “I dunno... Mum didn’t say. I’m guessing till she calls back. Sorry, Harry.”

“Perhaps it’s best. Now, who wants some cake?”

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

 

_A week later_

Eggsy wasn’t surprised when a few days became over a week. It was eight days now of having Daisy, and he still _definitely_ wasn’t complaining. Neither was Daisy. And most importantly, neither was Harry. Harry was a gentleman about it the entire time and treated Daisy like a guest, not an inconvenience.

The first two nights Daisy cried for _mama_ , but it quickly fizzled away when Eggsy pointed out she wasn’t alone in a strange place, she was with _Eggsy_. Their month apart set her back a little, but Eggsy understood her displacement. She clung to Eggsy like she was scared all of a sudden, whining and kicking when he tried to put her down to sleep. She was only being fussy, of course, and Eggsy humoured her by being the big sloth to her little sloth, as greedy as she was for contact. That was, of course, until Harry appeared with a small sip of something sweet, and suddenly she was a big girl.

“ _Harry, you know that’ll just give her energy._ ”

“ _Yes, well, neither of us are working in the morning._ ”

Daisy liked Harry. He was something strange and new to look at for someone from their part of town. Eggsy understood that too. She liked his glasses and his hair, his white shirts and shoulder straps. She liked when he talked to her (like she was a right little lady straight out of My Fair Lady, not that she understood most of it), and she liked whenever he walked into a room with her sippy cup. 

And Harry, well, no one could dare dislike Daisy. Eggsy could see it in his eyes, in his expression, Harry was genuinely fond of Daisy, and it strengthened with each day. They became used to each other and by the eighth day Daisy was approaching Harry herself when she wanted something, tugging on his trousers with a shy finger in her mouth. Shy though she was she was also very brave and adaptable—much like her big brother. She was well behaved and didn’t fuss at the food Harry made after tasting it. She gave Harry no reason to dislike her. Not even with the fact that she wriggled like a bloody worm when they slept.

And yeah, she slept in the bed with them.

Coming from the kind of life that Eggsy did he was used to inconvenient sleeping arrangements. Got family or friends over? Okay, someone can sleep on this couch, someone can sleep on that one, someone else can make do with the single armchair, you two can crash on the floor, and you can sleep in the bath if you want, and us three can take the bed, and so on. You made do with what you got, so he hadn’t thought about where she’d sleep. In a house as nice as Harry’s sleeping on the floor was still a step up from his old bed. 

The first night Eggsy offered to sleep on the floor with her on some blankets, but as Harry pointed out there was plenty of room on the bed for both of them. She was small and wouldn’t take up much place.

 _No but she could pee the bed_ , Eggsy pointed out. Nappies leaked at the worst of times.

But Harry was adamant. He was all right with it as long as Daisy was, but she didn’t mind anything after receiving her nightly sippy cup of milkshake from Harry. Eggsy smirked each time, seeing it for the bribe it was, but hey, he would’ve done the same back in the day if he could afford it.

So Daisy slept with them, and she slept in the middle so not to roll off. It was no exaggeration; she squirmed like there were ants in her pants. Harry pointed out after the third night that she probably had worms, and he sorted it out by the fourth day with a trip to the chemist. 

Two more days later and she was wriggle free, tossing only as children did when hot, between two bodies much larger than her own. But like most children she was a clinger, despite getting too hot, and twice Eggsy woke to find her sprawled towards Harry, a hand over his face from where she was probably trying to reach his hair between naps. Harry never did stop her, possibly pretending not to notice, but Eggsy tugged her off as covertly as possible so he didn’t have to.

Still, it was endearing as fuck, and Eggsy crawled out of bed more times that week than he liked to admit to take care of errant erections. There was absolutely no time to even think of stuff like that, between Daisy and JB their days were full. JB was another baby to chase after; constantly taking him out to pee, feeding him, playing with him, or taking him out for a short walk. It wasn’t too difficult, Daisy was entertained by JB’s mere presence so it killed two birds with one stone, and Harry was always there to lend a hand. Gym-time did take a slight hit, but they could afford it.

In any case, Eggsy was having the time of his life. He had his sister and he had a puppy, and he had someone dependable to turn to when he was unsure. He had two— _three_ —good friends in his life and a safe home void of pain and torment. What the fuck more could he want?

 

“…So, I’ve been thinking.”

Harry raised his brows, but didn’t look away from his plate. “Am I in trouble?”

Eggsy chuckled shook his head between bites of his toast. Daisy shook her toast, and JB shook the piece she threw at him.

“Daisy’s gonna grow up before I know it and I gotta be able to put her through school. To do that I kinda need alotta money so…I’m gonna need to get a job.”

“Any career you’re interested in?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“You’ve got many years yet before having to worry about her university.”

Eggsy winced, and took a gulp of coffee. “Shit’s expensive though. I gotta start saving sooner than later. Just dunno what I wanna do.”

“You can do whatever you want to, my funds are yours so whatever you wish to study you are more than welcome to.”

“Thanks, Harry.” Eggsy smiled, believing those words without a second’s hesitance. It opened up all kinds of doors, and yet, there _was_ one thing he was thinking of.

“When are you gonna retire?”

“I think I have a decade left in me. Why?”

“Well, what if I wanted to become a Kingsman? Help people like me. I know what it’s like coming from the streets and now I know what it’s like being part of the system. Y’guys can only empathise so much. I think I’d be useful.”

Harry stopped spreading jam on the mini scone he was about to hand to Daisy. She made an impatient noise, and he finished off with a funny twist of his lips.

“That is a valid point but I think there are many grander prospects out there for you. You can become _anything_ you wish, Eggsy. I will help you achieve it.” He shot Eggsy a serious look, one of the old ones that Eggsy came to think seemed somewhat…indebted. It was confusing, because if anyone owed anyone, it was Eggsy who owed Harry. All the blowjobs in the world couldn’t pay back the shear magnitude of the change Harry made to his life. 

“I gotta give it some thought.” Eggsy shrugged, then dusted off his hands and took his plate and mug to the sink. “I’m gonna go out for a bit. Wanna stock up on more nappies and formula. Maybe get Daisy another outfit.”

“Just keep your phone on you.”

“I will.”

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

 

Eggsy went to the mall. It was larger and safer than roaming town. He didn’t _want_ to test the niggling fear of running into the Baker gang even on these streets. Anyway he had Daisy with him, he definitely wasn’t going to take that chance. 

In any case, he thought it was about time to visit April again, the crude cashier. He snuck in when her attention was on a customer and went about his shopping. Most of it was for Daisy, and a few cans of food for JB. Eggsy did not miss the stress of trying to scrounge up money for nappies and milk, everything was bloody expensive, and he just hoped his mum was putting her foot down enough to get the good stuff for Daisy with the compensation money.

He bought enough milk and nappies anyway so she could go home with some, and grabbed three cartoons off the DVD rack. He grabbed a handful of her favourite sweets and a fresh pack of deodorant for himself. After making sure he got what he came for, he idled down the health isle until he found the condoms. 

Daisy sat playing with a chocolate bar in the kiddie seat of the trolley while he poured over his options. He had no specific goal in mind, he and Harry hadn’t had a suggestive moment in a whole week, but now that he could afford better he wondered whether to get a pricier brand than he was used to, or just stick to what he knew. 

He and Harry’s shower would remain wank material for centuries, he was fucking certain, but that was in the _shower_ , everything was washed away without effort. And while he was aiming to stop pressing for stuff to happen between them, he couldn’t help wanting to be ready. There was no lack of attraction between them, sex was inevitable, and it wouldn’t hurt if Eggsy prepared for it. Sex could be really messy, and he still wasn’t sure what Harry’s preferences were. If he liked it bareback and filthy then hey, Eggsy was in a place where he was entirely up for it. And if Harry liked it clean and orderly, Eggsy had no problem with that either. 

He laboured fussily over his options until he did what he did with the lube. He grabbed the four boxes he thought most likely to work for them, and tossed them in the trolley. Satisfied with his haul, Eggsy glided back through the aisles and made his way to April.

“Why, hello there, ma’am.” said Eggsy in an exaggerated prim accent.

She looked up from her doodle book, and gasped at Daisy, pencil flying. “Oh my God! When did this happen?”

Her expression said it all, but unlike with Arthur, there was no insult attached, and he could hear the harmless tease.

“She’s my sister, you perv! Ain’t she cute?”

April leaned over the counter to coo at Daisy, her black and red-streaked hair and her new nose ring of extreme interest to the little girl.

“Oh, good. I was wondering which was crazier: you adopting with that guy or you getting Sims pregnant and having a super accelerated pregnancy.”

“I think I get the last one but what’s so crazy about adopting? It’s a good thing.”

April leaned back and shrugged, and started on his items. “But you gotta know the person you adopting with, you know? So, how’s the old guy?”

“Not as old as we thought.”

“Oh yeah? Giving you real good, is he?” She scanned the boxes of condoms first and waved one at him.

“You’re a fucking sailor’s daughter, ain’tcha?” Eggsy smirked, and then shrugged smugly. “But yeah. Gent in the street, freak in the sheets. Had to stock up on supplies…”

“Wouldn’t want to _actually_ get pregnant, now would we?”

“Actually it’d be a great excuse to eat cake everyday so I wouldn’t object.”

She paused and sighed in longing at the till. “You win this round. What’s her name?”

“Daisy. Watching her for my mum for the week. Spoiling her rotten too, ain’t I, sweetheart?”

April smiled something more honest than the others. “I wish I had a big brother like you.”

“Yeah? You do now. As long as you don’t mind a baby sister?”

“’Course not,” April grinned, handing Daisy a chocolate bar without checking it through, and gave them a wink, “not when she’s so darn cute.”

Eggsy grinned too and acted oblivious, emptying the last of Daisy’s items.

“Then it’s settled. So, sis, got a boyfriend I need to know about?”

“Nay. I art saveth myself for marriage.”

“Aww, atta girl. Following your big brother’s example, are ya? I’m flattered.”

“Mother and Father will be so proud.”

“We’re just the best. High fives all around.” They all three high fived, and Daisy smacked Eggsy with the chocolate bar as a sign off, babbling excitedly. 

After April rung up his items she bagged them with practiced eased, raised a brow dramatically at the cash he paid with, and squeezed Daisy’s cheek with a furious bite to her bottom lip.

Eggsy tipped his cap. “All right, I gotta go.”

“All right. Bye Daisy. Give big brother hell tonight.” 

“Wait till it’s your turn, you witch.” They mock-glared at each other until Eggsy left the store, missing the poor person Daisy hit in the face with her stolen chocolate bar. 

Without a major time or spend limit Eggsy was free to roam the other stores. It felt weird to shop without Harry, but liberating at the same time. He did get Daisy a couple outfits as decided, some cute little shoes and a new teddy bear. He ignored the siren calls of the latest gaming station since he was thinking about a career. He was going to be twenty five in barely a couple years, he needed to start thinking of his future outside of Harry.

As much as he hoped the money Harry paid for him was giving his mum a better life, he knew it wasn’t going towards health insurance or Daisy’s education. He was going to have to sort that out for them himself, and he couldn’t mooch off Harry for eternity. He _could_ just get a hit man to take out Dean, then half his problems would be solved.

Or maybe he could just hire Harry, and pay him later with a steamy, grateful round of sex...

Ah, he didn’t day dream as much as he should.

He was on his way out when one last thing caught his eye—a certain lady friend. 

He hadn’t realised how small Roxy was until she was surrounded by crowds of shopping people. She could probably fit in a box and be shipped off to Europe, along with a few outfits. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but without those party heels she was noticeably smaller, sporting casual jeans and a long black sleeved blouse. He squinted at her from two stores down, peeking over Daisy and a little old lady. Roxy was on her phone, staring into the clothing store that she was hovering outside of.

Eggsy walked closer until he was sure it was her, and when he was he crept up as quietly as he could, making a shushing motion with his finger to Daisy as they remained undetected.

“What? Which floor? Should I pull ou—”

“Boo!” Eggsy leapt in front of her, looking like a crazed bag lady with a bunch of bags and a loud, giggling kid.

Roxy gasped and jumped back, barely managing to hold onto her phone, and the first thing Eggsy noticed was that she was wearing glasses. Standard black rimmed glasses. The second thing was that it reminded him starkly of Harry—he needed to get out more. He frowned, but Roxy recovered and grabbed his arm, a little too tightly for a tiny girl.

“Eggsy! Hi?!” she squeaked, looking from Eggsy to Daisy to Eggsy and his bags.

“Hi? Sorry, didn’t mean to actually scare you.”

“That’s all right? And who is this adorable young lady?” Roxy leaned forward and offered her hand out. Daisy leaned into Eggsy’s shoulder and stuck her hand in her mouth instead. 

Eggsy shifted Daisy up on his hip so Roxy could get a better look at her. He was proud, in case anyone in 1000 metres missed that. 

“This sugar dumpling is my sister, Daisy. Baby sitting for the week. So, what’s happening? When did you get back?”

“Yesterday. Just came by to meet someone, they haven’t shown up yet. I was going to call but you know how times flies.”

“No prob, Bob. Didja sort things?”

“With what?”

“I dunno, whatever you left for?”

“Oh! Yes, just a silly family feud. But who cares, tell me about you. How are things with Harry?”

Eggsy shrugged, holding his palm out under Daisy’s to encourage her to shake Roxy’s. Daisy did so with a gurgle and immediately stuck her hand back in her mouth. 

“Pretty good. We have our tiny ups and downs but it’s all really good.”

“That’s all? No details?”

“...We’ve been a lil’ handsy, if that’s what you mean.” 

“Okay, that’s enough detail.”

“You asked! But yeah, it’s all peaches and cream. Huh, Harry hasn’t made that yet…”

Roxy opened her mouth, but her phone rang before she could start. She gave Eggsy a pardoning smile and answered, glancing around as she did.

“Hello? Yes. Yes, sure... Five minutes. I’ll be right there, dad.”

Eggsy pouted as she ended the call. “Duty calls?”

“Yes. So sorry to cut this short. I’ll visit soon. Text me a good date?” she squeezed his arm, softer this time.

Eggsy nodded, but then looked around. “What about your friend?”

“What friend?”

“The…one you’re meeting?”

“Oh! No, it was my dad but I’ll meet him at home. Okay, so, let me know when you’re free and I’ll pop over. Deal?”

“Deal. I do got loads to tell you though. Say bye, aunty Roxy.” Eggsy bounced Daisy, nudging her head with his and waving his hand so she could copy him. She did so shyly, and Roxy grinned at her, mesmerized as everyone else.

“Bye honey! I hope to see you again,” Roxy gave Daisy a tickle on the tummy and received a sweet, shy giggle as a reward, and she then bumped Eggsy on the arm. “Definitely see you soon.”

“Bye Rox.” Eggsy watched her off before looking around one last time, and exited too. He adjusted his armful to call a taxi, and strolled leisurely the rest of the way to wait in the car park.

 

When he got home Harry was there waiting for him. Eggsy didn’t ask how long he’d been leaning outside against the wall or why, but accepted his help back into the house. Harry carried in his bags and Eggsy carried in Daisy, but Eggsy made quick work of doing a swop so he could pack away the items and hide away the condoms. Harry didn’t seem like he was onto him, and busied himself making a cup of juice for Daisy as she sat quietly on his hip, fiddling with her new little teddy bear.

“I think JB needs to be walked. Would you like me to do it?” Harry asked, and they glanced at the pup circling the kitchen excitedly.

Eggsy rolled up the bag with his condoms and deodorant, making sure the deodorant peeked out to dispelled any kind of curiosity.

“Nah, I’ll do it. You can join us if you want to?”

“I’d be delighted.”

Eggsy couldn’t say he was surprised at the answer. 

Busy though they may be, Harry missed little time with him. It meant Eggsy learnt a few new things about Harry. He learnt that Harry knew the names of at least one hundred breeds of dogs, more Disney characters than a common mother, he made the best peas and mash, he was a profound multi-tasker, and he could change a nappy. Not expertly, but he _could_ and _would_. Dean hadn’t done it once since Daisy came into the world, and here Eggsy woke up one morning to an empty bed, and found the missing pair in the en suite, Daisy half asleep and sucking her thumb as Harry painstakingly navigated his way from a dirty nappy to a clean one. And though the smell wasn’t enticing, Harry’s ever strengthening companionship was.

Once JB was safely on a leash and Daisy had finished her juice (and Eggsy had stuck away the condoms) they headed out. It would be the third walk they took together as a group, and Eggsy found he really enjoyed it. Mostly for the bonding time, but secretly, and arrogantly, because he got to show off to the outside world. 

He didn’t feel too bad about it, he wasn’t flaunting gold or money, just his beautiful sister, his adorable puppy, and his probably-the-best-husband in the world. It was sickeningly domestic and sweet and everything he fantasised about when imagining his future. Or, the future he’d want if fast cars, suitcases of money and scantily clad models were out of the picture. If he could have this forever, he didn’t think he’d be sad again.

They took a slow walk around the block, idling towards the few corner stores before town began. Harry had JB’s leash and Eggsy carried Daisy, constantly fiddling with her hat to make sure the sun didn’t get in her face, even if it was slightly overcast. The streets weren’t too busy or noisy, and neither were the pavements, giving JB plenty of room and reassurance to trot along.

The silence was nice as they went, but Eggsy thought Harry cared to hear the thoughts on his mind. 

“Roxy’s back. Ran into her at the mall.”

“Oh. How is she?”

“All right. Seemed a bit preoccupied. She got to meet Daisy though, and everyone who meets her loves her.”

“Of course they do.” Harry gave Daisy a fond smile, but Daisy leaned up to look over his shoulder and pointed. They looked together, and Harry sighed. They were outside the ice cream parlour. “But it looks like we’ve created a monster.”

Eggsy winced. “Oops?”

“Here, let me take her. There’s a bit of a line and JB isn’t allowed inside. Take a walk around the block, maybe get me the newspaper and we’ll rendezvous back here?”

“Sure.” Eggsy handed her over, and took JB’s leash. He poked her tummy. “Be good for Harry, okay, pumpkin?”

Daisy nodded, fingers in her mouth, and remained calm as Eggsy backed off.

“I’ll be right back.” he promised, and thankfully Daisy didn’t start crying. It would be the first time he left her alone with Harry in a public place, and despite knowing Harry was a samurai in disguise he couldn’t help being a little worried. He didn’t want her scared when with them, especially not with Harry. He wanted them to love each other, and he loved watching them together. Daisy would be a part of Eggsy’s life as she grew, Eggsy was going to make certain of it, but it meant Harry would be a part of it too, and the thought filled Eggsy with helium.

JB’s tiny legs could only take him so far so fast, and sooner than Eggsy thought JB stopped to pee against a post box. Eggsy glanced around while he waited, wondering if there were any interesting shops he needed to visit and where he could get the closest newspaper from. JB’s leash tightened, pulling him from his thoughts, and he followed after the pup. Unfortunately he wasn’t looking where he was going, and he bumped into someone.

“Shit! Sorry, I—” Eggsy stopped short when he looked up, the rest of his answer catching in his throat like a fly. His eyes widened to their limits and he took a good step back as the men he bumped into lit up with recognition of their own.

“Hey! Well, I’ll be. It’s been a bloody long time. Jim, look who it is!” _Jack_ , Eggsy recalled, _Jack and Jim_ , elbowed Jim and pointed at Eggsy.

Jim whistled and looked over Eggsy. “We thought you got sent to the slammer. Where ya been all this time?”

Eggsy jerked off his shock and turned his flushing face away. 

“Excuse me.” He said as he started off.

But one of them grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, tightening his grip with the ease of men who frequented pubs and harassed waitresses. But Eggsy’s heart was in his throat and self-preservation bubbled beneath it, giving him the strength to wrench his arm back.

Jack pulled a face and held his hands up. 

“Oi, what? We ain’t good enough for you now? Whaddaya doin’ this side of town anyway? A bit above your league, innit?

“I could say the same about you. Now excuse me—”

Jack blocked his way. Of course manners got no where in _their_ world.

“Nah, nah, nah. You don’t get to walk away from us like we’re the scum. Where ya going? You got somewhere to be? Sucking some bloke’s prick for lunch, are you?”

“Yeah, my husband’s. Now fuck off!”

“Husband, really?” Jim chuckled, and grabbed Eggsy’s left hand. He squeezed Eggsy’s bare ring finger before Eggsy could pull it away. “What a lovely ring!”

“Fuck off!” Eggsy barked, shaking out his sullied hand. He bent and scooped up JB, turned, and started walking. He only realised he was running when JB started whining.

And he wasn’t the only one running. He could hear the steps behind him, not in full pursuit, but mocking, as if it were a game. It made Eggsy run faster, but it also made him blind. He didn’t see where he was going, he didn’t know the area that well, he didn’t know anyone here to help him, and all he wanted was to escape the grasp of two old customers. He hadn’t seen them in months. He thought _they_ had got sent to the slammer, and he honestly couldn’t less as long as they weren’t around him. 

Before long Eggsy ran himself into a dead end. JB was whining and wriggling against his chest, and Eggsy knew it would be impossible to scale the wall while holding JB. He didn’t even know what was on the other side of it, but he had to escape, he had too—

“Whoops! Cornered. Like old times, ‘ey?” Jim said, throwing his arms out in welcome as he and Jack jogged into the alley.

Eggsy staggered back but kept his chin up, looking over their clothing for concealed knives. 

“What d’you want?”

“Why’d you run? We ain’t gonna hurt ya. Did we ever hurt him, Jim? Nah. C’mon, we got cash. I’m sure your imaginary husband will appreciate you bringing some money home. ‘Sides, this spot is nicer than the old ones.”

“I don’t do that anymore. I haven’t done it in a year.” Eggsy swallowed down a mouthful of terror—why was he so scared? They were just stupid old customers trying to make him feel small. It was broad day light, in an area where the bobbies were always around, where _anyone_ could see—

Jack smiled unattractively, and gestured slowly from Eggsy to himself. “A slut is always a slut, just like a thief is always a thief. Now get off that high horse’a yours and let’s talk like grown ups.”

“Touch me again and I swear.”

“Swear what, angel face? You was a real minx back then. C’mon, don’t be like that. Why’d you stop, pretending ya don’t know us? We was good customers.”

“It’s none of your fuckin’ business, all right? Now fuck off before I make you.”

Jim scowled and shoved Jack. “He’s no fun no more. Let’s just go.”

“No, I wanna know why he’s suddenly all high and mighty. Does your pops know where you’re gallivanting off to? Huh? Did he send you over for richer fish? Eh? Where’s your daddy, boy?”

“He’s right here.”

Eggsy almost dropped to the floor in relief as Harry appeared. He wanted to dash into Harry’s arms the same time he wanted to scramble over the wall, deadly landing regardless. He stared with his mouth and eyes wide open, clinging to JB as his past turned to face his present and his future.

Daisy was in Harry’s arms, holding her ice cream and looking apprehensive, but Harry looked less concerned. And it was false as fuck.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, blinking obliviously.

“Yeah. Y-yeah, I’m okay.” Eggsy stuttered with a mouth like sandpaper.

“Come along then. We ought to put her to bed.”

Eggsy didn’t even think as he moved. He just around the two men who seemed to be too surprised to say anything, and made sure JB was still in his arms, he might’ve gone blank there for a moment. 

Harry offered his hand and Eggsy took it, squeezing a little too tightly but too scared to care. Then Harry started off and pulled him along, saying something soft to Daisy that Eggsy couldn’t hear over the pounding of his blood. He didn’t dare look back, listening as hard as he could, but he heard no one following them and he managed to keep going.

They walked about two blocks before Eggsy couldn’t take it anymore.

“What did you hear?”

“Those men interfering with you.” Harry said, a steely calm to his tone that sounded anything _but_ calm. “Something about being good customers, you being high and mighty.”

Eggsy clenched his hand. It was sweaty, he was sweating, a cold ugly sweat that he hadn’t had in a few months, closest to that moment in the club with that Charlie prick. His lips trembled with unspoken words, his gut was somewhere at his feet and his shoulders hurt so much he thought they’d turn to stone.

“I assume you sold drugs to them for Baker?”

A chance of opportunity and relief flushed through Eggsy from head to toe. Harry stopped them then, and Eggsy nodded, eyes on the ground. 

“Yeah. Yeah….Never thought I’d see them around here. Guess the feeling was mutual.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m all right.”

Harry tugged on his hand. Eggsy couldn’t stop himself from looking up into Harry’s devastatingly concerned gaze. It made Eggsy feel enveloped, even out on the open street.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked slowly.

 _Not really_. 

“Yes.” 

Harry looked back. His brow was pinched and his lips were in a tight line, and there was a slight flare to his nostrils, and Eggsy realised quite belatedly that Harry was entirely capable of going back and beating the shit out of both those men. 

But today Eggsy couldn’t stand the thought. It was too close, it was too messy, too real. Once upon a time that suddenly felt like yesterday he’d taken those men down his throat and called them regulars, a source of needed income, but it was as detestable then as it was now. Only now he had something better, something he couldn’t lose when it was all he had to keep him from falling back into the hands of those same regulars, and worse. 

“I’m okay. Let’s just go home. Please? Please, Harry?” he begged, pulling on Harry’s hand, but the man was rigid. Even Daisy had stopped to look at him, not daring to touch the hard angles that were his face. Harry’s eyes were far off down the street, ignoring Eggsy completely until Eggsy leaned up on his toes.

“Daddy?”

The context was a mystery even to Eggsy—was he asking, or addressing?—but it was whispered in earnest with a shaky breath, everything in it screaming for help. Help from the man he depended on even against his instincts, comfort from the closest thing he’d ever had to a lover—for fucks sake _to a father_. It broke through Harry’s trance and he looked down at Eggsy like he’d forgotten he was there.

“What?”

“ _Please_ , take us home.”

Harry’s steely stance cracked. His expression fell away into something kinder and he pulled their linked hands into his chest. Eggsy was already close enough for Harry to lean forward an inch and kiss his forehead, melting away the mountain on Eggsy’s shoulders like he had a superpower. 

 

Eggsy didn’t see the rest of the day pass. They made it home, but his mind was still in the street. Worse, it was back on Smith Street where he sold his time and attentions and pretended the label ‘prostitute’ didn’t apply to him because he’d never taken it up the arse. That was the one thing he had left, the one thing Dean didn’t own, hadn’t been able to steal and give it every to every Dick, Tom, and—… Eggsy would give it to Harry in a heartbeat.

Both Daisy and JB appreciated going home as much as Eggsy did. JB fell right to sleep and Daisy was next. Eggsy bathed her first, cleaning her of ice cream and dirt and snot from her runny nose that just never seemed to stop. JB would need a bath too soon.

Unlike the many other times Eggsy wanted his space, Harry didn’t leave him alone for long.

It was 3 ‘o clock when Daisy was done with the bath, an hour after their little adventure outside, and Eggsy was rocking her to sleep. She was already out but the motion comforted Eggsy too, and he stopped when he realised Harry had materialised by the door. 

Eggsy carefully put her down on the bed and placed her woollen blanket over her. She was fast asleep, leaving Eggsy to the uncomfortable gaze Harry settled him with. And this was just a concerned gaze, Eggsy couldn’t imagine what it must be like on the receiving end of an _I’m going to fuck you up_ look from Harry.

“I think we should talk about what happened.”

Eggsy closed his eyes, jaw clenching at the very thought, and sighed. 

“Do we have to? I don’t wanna.” 

“I think we should.”

Eggsy sighed and threw his hands out, smacking his thighs when they came down. Harry wasn’t perturbed, and stepped into the room, hands in his pockets. He had a jumper on, he’d been wearing it all day, and Eggsy rather wanted to bury his face in it than talk.

“We didn’t talk about the last time. I think we should talk now.”

“All right, Harry. What d’you wanna know? That I sold drugs to men like that? Yeah, I did. I sold them all kinds’a things. I wish I hadn’t, but it is what it is.”

Harry spoke softer, glancing at Daisy from behind his glasses. “I’m not pointing fingers. I want us to talk it out so you don’t go to bed like this.”

Harry had a point. Eggsy felt miserable beneath the false apathy. Anger and sadness had mashed into a formless ball that threatened to ricochet off everything if not popped, or at least contained. Usually Eggsy was good at containing, but he never seemed quite capable of it when Harry was staring through his skull.

“…Honestly I don’t really feel bad.” Eggsy said after a moment. 

He truly didn’t, not in the way Harry might think. He shrugged. 

“All my customers were already low-lives. I didn’t mess up their lives, they did that on their own. Dean just made me supply ‘em. A pretty face got a few more buys. And if it was feeding my mum and Daisy then I wasn’t gonna complain. Unless you know people y’don’t get anywhere in life, and yeah I know people, but they also know me, and ain’t no one giving the Baker clan the time of day. Unless they were just as fucked up as us. So yeah, if I was going down, they was going down with me.”

“You didn’t use though?”

“Nah. I thought about it a lot. But ya know how fucking selfish that would’a been t’Daisy? Dead-beat dad, junkie mum, junkie brother. The only thing left for her would’a been the exact same thing, and worse. I wouldn’t—I can’t... I’d rather deal with dickheads like that if that’s what it takes t’look after my family.”

“...I must’ve been quite the change then.”

Eggsy nodded, but only afterwards thought on it. 

Harry’s place in his life was massive, a shift of worlds. If Harry hadn’t chosen him, Eggsy would be going nowhere fast. The only other way things might’ve gotten better was if Harry had turned up on Smith Street as a customer. 

_Fuck_ , Harry would’ve been the customer of his dreams— _their_ dreams. He and the other boys would’ve fought over him, everyone wanting to be the one Harry Hart picked up. Harry would pay decently, he might even tip, and he might offer a midnight snack. He’d never hurt them, he’d treat them like people, and he’d be a passionate lover, distinguishable from the well-put-together gentleman he would be in the morning. Eggsy would not have minded that happening either.

But Dean would’ve found a way to ruin it, exploit Harry’s money, find some way to turn it into a nightmare for Eggsy.

 _But this way_ …Harry was all Eggsy’s. He wouldn’t trade it for the world. He just hoped a wild hope that the feeling would be mutual one day.

“Yeah... A good one. You turned my life around. You turned Daisy’s, ya know. I got a real chance now to give her a better life. Because’a you. Thank you.”

Harry smiled a smile far too bright for the moment. Eggsy appreciated it, the effort to make him feel better, and then Harry took a step forward. 

“Looks like I have a family after all. When last did we take a picture?”

Eggsy’s heart skipped a tiny beat. 

“Is it for…?”

“We’ll frame it.”

Eggsy’s heart skipped another beat. He pulled out his phone hesitantly and watched Harry sit at the foot of the bed. Then Harry patted his knees, and Eggsy felt his anxieties fall away, replaced by butterflies.

His face went pink and he fumbled over the few small steps that felt like a mile. He sat slowly, shifted back, conscious of his weight, but Harry didn’t creak or groan like Eggsy’s old mattress. Instead Harry put his hands on his waist and guided him back a little more so Eggsy could lean comfortably against him, and peeked comically with his chin over Eggsy’s shoulder. 

Eggsy bit his lip so not to giggle (he was still upset, dammit), and lifted his phone to capture them.

The first picture was a good capture of the bleak mood. You could notice—if you were aware of the situation—that both of them looked troubled, but at least not alone. Not entirely. Eggsy aimed again, and took a few more. 

He flipped through the images when he was done, holding the phone up so Harry could see too and if he so wish, scorn one or two. But he didn’t, he didn’t need to, Harry looked as good as always.

Harry slipped his arms around Eggsy’s waist, interlocking his fingers against his stomach, and Eggsy pressed back in response with a burdened sigh. 

He was going to have to confess sooner than later. But the thought made him nauseas, his stomach tightening beneath Harry’s fingers, as did the flashes of images when he thought back to all those nights, learning the art with plastered men who honestly couldn’t tell the difference between a good cock sucker and a bad one. The alleys had been awful and the smells worse. They seemed miles away from Harry’s clean house, the floors spotless and the air clear.

He put the phone down beside Harry and turned his head slightly, and rested it on Harry’s. Harry pressed against his lightly, and gave a deep sigh. Eggsy understood the sentiment, and closed his eyes as the warmth against his back lulled him into a nap of his own.

Things didn’t hurt as much when Harry held him. It felt like nothing could get him like this, but the moment he’d get up, he’d be exposed again. He’d gone and fallen into dependence on Harry anyway. At least on Smith he’d had his rules, he’d had leverage, and earned his keep whenever men Jack and Jim had him against a crumbling wall. 

Yes, he’d licked his swollen lips and winked suggestively at them, groaning as they squeezed his arse and kissed his throat, pulling his hand to their tenting zips. Yes, he’d grimace and trudge home and curse the world, always looking over his back, but he’d been independent. He could rely on himself to protect himself, provide for the house, to comfort himself when Dean was especially cruel or Michelle was passed out drugged for a whole day. 

He’d been strong back then, lips linned thin and chin up, not giving a fuck in the world except for Daisy and his two friends. 

But here, in Harry’s house, in his arms, Eggsy couldn’t find that part of himself. All he found where tears threatening to spill and shaky hands. Tears that Harry wiped away and hands that Harry took in his own and stilled. Harry had made him soft, and Eggsy hated that he wasn’t upset about it.

 _He liked it_. He liked Harry taking care of him. He liked Harry indulging him. He liked Harry looking as if he was about to destroy two men for him. He liked Harry concerned about him. He liked Harry being careful with him. 

It was so different to what he was used to, likely the source of Eggsy’s embarrassing misled attempts at seduction, but in that way Eggsy wanted to explore this too. He wasn’t too damaged for it, he was almost certain. Just like he was almost certain he’d started grinding his arse back _shit shit shit_

Eggsy jumped, suddenly flushed and burning with embarrassment. Harry peek at him over his shoulder, arms still tight around him.

“Eggsy?” Harry asked. Eggsy turned his eyes down and shook his head, hoping he’d only imagined it, or if not play it off as a bad fidget.

“Did I move too fast?”

Eggsy blinked hard. “What?”

It was then Eggsy realised one of Harry’s hands were lower, _a lot_ lower. His fingers were dipped just between Eggsy’s parted thighs, his palm lightly over the crotch of Eggsy’s jeans. He wasn’t pressing, he could be just resting his hand (in a very lewd place), but his question suggested otherwise, and Eggsy realised his imagined movements might’ve been quite real and subconscious. 

Eggsy started to breathe a little faster. He shook his head quickly—if this was what he thought was happening—and turned his face towards Harry without meeting his eyes.

“Not too fast.” He whispered, wishing he’d been paying attention. He could feel his cock stirring, and tried to tell if Harry’s was too, but his jeans were too damn tight.

Harry was still and silent for a moment, and Eggsy wondered if he was simply dreaming it all. Why couldn’t this be real and Smith Street just be a bad dream? 

Then Harry breathed into his ear.

“Can I do something for you?”

The question could be innocent, but not with the pointed drag of Harry’s fingers against Eggsy’s clenching stomach. It felt like he left welts behind, and Eggsy shuddered.

He breathed out heavily and turned his head back over Harry’s shoulder, and nodded.

“Yes. Please.”

His half-hopes of Harry turning to his neck were immediately gifted. Harry tilted his head and pressed a kiss to Eggsy’s throat. Eggsy flinched and swallowed back a grunt, closing his eyes as he flushed hot. He held onto the arm around his waist tightly, and let Harry kissed his racing pulse again, and again, and again. 

It was gentle and sweet, thrilling even as Harry kept his own breathing slow, his limbs stiff as though locked. Then Harry’s hand clenched, the one over Eggsy’s crotch, and Eggsy whined, thighs clenching.

“This okay?” Harry asked between kisses. He sounded so fucking coy, Eggsy almost wanted to jab him with his elbow. 

All of Eggsy’s blood was in his cock, straining in his pants and pressing eagerly against Harry’s cupped hand. Eggsy couldn’t even think of a verbal answer let alone speak it, not while Harry was _oh fuck Harry was rubbing him off_

Eggsy whimpered and slapped his hand down over Harry’s and squeezed, doubling the pressure. Harry stopped both his attentions, holding still until Eggsy parted is thighs some more and pressed Harry’s hand down completely over his bulge. Harry then squeezed just the way he wanted, and Eggsy moaned in long awaited anticipation.

“Good?” Harry asked, voice low and so fucking ridiculously mischievous Eggsy wondered if this whole thing had been an experiment to drive him into sexual frustration.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. ‘S good…’s good...”

Eggsy started moving his hips again, pressing his bum into Harry’s lap as Harry squeezed between his thighs. They made a compatible rhythm, Eggsy rolling forward when Harry rubbed down, then drawing his arse back into Harry’s lap when Harry drew his hand up. Harry’s other hand was rubbing sensually over Eggsy’s belly, his fingers like hard coal sticks. Eggsy couldn’t recall when it’d gotten under his shirt but _fuck_ , it lit sparks up his chest and he arched.

“ _Fuck me, Harry_ ,” Eggsy groaned, gasping for breath. “That’s good. So fuckin’ good, bruv.”

Harry smirked into his neck. 

“You’re always so receptive.” Harry said candidly, and gave Eggsy’s package a good, lewd shake.

Eggsy shouted and jerked back, swearing colourfully under his breath, and twisted to gawk at Harry. 

“The fuck’s gotten into you?” he asked as he ground back. The roll of his hips gave Harry no chance to mistake the question for reluctance, and Eggsy found his hand lifting back into Harry’s hair before he could contain himself. He pulled, cringing at the bold move, but instead of raising a limit, Harry raised the hand on Eggsy’s belly up to spread over his chest, a possessive hold Eggsy wanted more of.

“Are you sure it’s not too much?”

“Fuck, no. Just—you don’t normally— _ahh_ —shit. Just wondering what got you so...” Eggsy trailed off as it rather suddenly dawned on him as he spoke the words.

They both went still, and Eggsy twisted a little more, cracking a smile as Harry guiltily tried to keep his face schooled.

“Are you...are you...?” Jealous wasn’t quite the word, but Eggsy couldn’t think of another. Concerned? Overprotective? None of them quite hit the spot. He had to be reacting to what happened out on their walk, what else could it be?

…Was it the daddy thing? Did Harry like to be called things as much as he to give it out? Daddy, love, babe, _sir_?

Harry seemed a little lost for words too. He cleared his throat and tried to remove his hand, but Eggsy pushed it back with a whine.

“No, wait, I wasn’t complaining?” Eggsy wriggled back, and finally he felt the evidence of Harry’s arousal. It worsened his want twice fold and suddenly he started laughing.

Harry slapped a hand over his mouth, the same one that had been over his cock. “ _Shhh_.” 

Eggsy laughed all the harder. He wasn’t alone, he felt Harry chuckle against him, but Harry kept both their sounds muffled, and pointedly glanced back.

“The little one is asleep.”

Eggsy nodded and mumbled apologies into his hand around hindered giggles. Their kitchen fiasco from yesterday played through his mind, making his mouth water and tongue tingle. It was one of the better experiences he’d ever had of being intimate, even though it ended bitterly. But it seemed Harry was interested in making it better. This was definitely like a fucking dream. Eggsy couldn’t believe it, he just kept giggling, trying hard to stop so he could at least try to be sexy and open his mouth in offer.

“ _Eggsy_.” Harry scolded, though his voice was filled with mirth. He flexed his fingers over Eggsy’s cheeks and squeezed, and then started dancing his fingers over Eggsy’s belly.

Eggsy burst into rambunctious laughter, jerking wildly as Harry tickled him. Harry didn’t give him an inch of space to escape, his grip like iron and his fingers nimble. Eggsy twisted desperately, but with neither of them relenting they toppled off the bed in a heavy heap.

Eggsy hit the floor first, just missing the cabinet, and Harry landed besides him, groaning good-naturedly with an arm stuck beneath Eggsy and a leg squashed between his. Eggsy couldn’t stop laughing but he did try to quieten down, chortling into the carpet as Harry chuckled into his back. No sounds came from on top of the bed so Eggsy didn’t bother to rise, and twisted over twice until he was facing Harry whose hair was askew and glasses knocked off.

They were just behind Eggsy’s head, and he picked them up before they were accidently crushed. He put them on instead of giving them over, and jerked back into the cabinet as the room flashed with lights. Something fell off the cabinet and conked him on the head, smacking off both the glasses and his grin.

“The _fuck_ was that?” he squeaked, holding his head as he scrambled upright onto his arse.

Harry sat up just as fast, slapping the glasses back onto his face, along with a look of surprise. 

“What was that?” Eggsy repeated, squirming as the handles of the cabinet dug into his back.

“They’re special addition. From Kingsman. Enhances my eyesight.” Harry said choppily.

“What, robot-vision?” Eggsy leaned forward and squinted, but he couldn’t see the bars and shapes from this angle, the glasses were clear.

“Yes. They let me see through people’s clothes.”

Eggsy stared. And then he burst out laughing all over again. He tossed his head back, knocking it against the wood and yelping so loud he missed Harry making a similar sound as Daisy peered sleepily over Harry’s head with a handful of hair.

“We should—should—” Eggsy guffawed around breaths, their legs tangled and all over the place in the cramped space, “gedda picture ov’is!” He could barely sit up, holding his stomach as he wheezed with laughter at the both of them, at the whole incident, even at the way Daisy seemed to be about to go to sleep on Harry’s head with her fist full of hair. 

Harry got up with some effort, taking Daisy with him, and she immediately put her head on his chest and went off again. Harry sighed and bounced her a little, his hair standing to attention and clothes ruffled. It made Eggsy groan with a confused mix of horniness that fought valiantly to climb over his amusement.

“Maybe we should all have a nap?” Harry suggested, offering Eggsy a hand.

Eggsy looked at it and all the goodies it could provide, pulled a face, and slumped back down onto the floor. He gestured like a wounded soldier to his tented crotch.

“I’ll nap here till this goes away.”

“Okay. We’ll save it for later.”

“ _Fuuuck meee_...”

Eggsy couldn’t be certain, but he was sure he heard _later_ repeated as he turned over to lie awkwardly face down.

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never been to a mall in Britain so whether there are condoms in the aisles is a mystery to me. Some of ours have it like that, depends on the store. Some have them by the tills, others by the separate counter where you buy other grown up stuff like cigarettes and lotto tickets. 
> 
> I had intended for there to be more smut but they ended up on the floor instead, and it just felt right. Next chapter though, get yo fans out. Drunk!Eggsy in a suit, ammirite?


End file.
